In The Time We Have Remaining
by Twix and Mum
Summary: Following PoA, Sirius is on the run, and there is only one person he can trust with his life and his heart. He and Remus work to rebuild what was destroyed all those years ago, and their struggle is, at turns, comic and poignant. COMPLETE.
1. Remember My Last by Twix

Remember My Last by Twix

I had been sitting at the kitchen table for hours before I realized how late it was. The clock chiming two o'clock in the morning woke me out of my stupor. I glanced around the dark, lonely flat and rubbed my tired eyes. I hated being here these days. Ever since Sirius had left to go into hiding, the flat felt lonelier and emptier than ever. It was impossible to fall asleep without Sirius next to me.

And I was confused as to why I missed him so much. Ever since this war broke out, there have been more and more secrets between the two of us. We no longer trust each other. I don't even know if still I love him.

It all started when Dumbledore said there was a spy among us. No one could be trusted anymore. At first, I refused to believe Sirius was working for Voldemort. Sirius Black, who hated all things involved with the Dark Arts, side with Voldemort? It was almost laughable. However, now, it was so hard to tell. He stopped talking to me at night, the few days he would actually come home.

He had dark shadows under his eyes, which had lost their normal, mischievous sparkle. Those beautiful grey eyes were now dull and empty. The man whom I loved had changed so much. It was difficult to believe so many things.

Whenever I asked him where he would go, he'd ask me the same thing, and the conversation would end there. I had my own orders and business from Dumbledore. And he told me it was important I didn't tell anyone where I went. Not even Sirius.

It was exactly half past two when Sirius burst in. Staring numbly into my empty teacup, I jumped when the door opened. The only light was in the kitchen, but I could tell it was him. Quickly, I stood up and went to turn on another lamp. Sirius shut the door sharply behind him and turned around.

He looked terrified. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. His robes were wrinkled and it looked as if he had been wearing them for several days in a row. He was extremely pale and his hands shook violently as he put his wand in his robe pockets.

"Sirius!" I exclaimed, shocked at his appearance. "What's--"

Sirius shook his head. "Not now, Remus."

I continued talking. "Aren't you supposed to be in hiding?" I knew he wouldn't answer me, but I asked anyway, "You've heard something about James and Lily, haven't you?"

Sirius made a sudden movement, cutting me off. He stepped forward so that we stood very close. When he spoke, his voice seemed to hold a challenge. "What do you know? Have you heard--" He fell silent and stared into my eyes intently, as if looking for something in them, an answer that couldn't be spoken outright, even if I had known what answer he was looking for.

I didn't break eye contact. "No, I haven't heard from them," I said truthfully, and a little suspiciously. Why would he ask a question like that? James and Lily went into hiding two weeks ago. Sirius knew that.

We stood there for several minutes staring at each other, our bodies just barely touching. Then suddenly, Sirius grasped my shoulder and said quietly, "Remus, I can't stay long, but I have to ask you something."

I exhaled nervously. "Ask me anything. I'll do my best to answer."

"Do you love me?"

Nothing could have prepared me for that question. My eyes widened, and I grasped his shoulders with both hands. "Sirius, what are you--"

"Remus," he said firmly, his eyes suddenly full of hunger and urgency, "Do you love me?"

Did I love him? How could I answer that? There was a part of me that was able to confirm instantly that yes, I did love him. But then . . . I remembered how little I knew this man anymore. How could I possibly love him?

I stared deep into his eyes, and I realized that, somehow, none of that mattered. He was still Sirius. I could see him sometimes when a shadow of a smile would come across that handsome face and his eyes would make an attempt to sparkle. When he kissed me, I could sense him.

I slowly reached up and touched his face. "Yes. I love you."

He looked at me for a long moment. I noticed his shadowed eyes were unusually soft, but before I could think anymore, Sirius pressed his lips against mine fiercely. As he kissed me hungrily, he wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me closer. I moaned and kissed him back--it had been so long since he'd touched me like that. I had begun to forget what it was like. Every part of my body was buzzing. He pulled back after a long time, but I stepped forward to kiss him again, wanting more. Instead, Sirius put my head in his hands and kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my jaw, and then my mouth. With his eyes still closed, he whispered against me, "I love you."

He then abruptly stepped backwards, looked at me one last time, and then Disapparated and was gone.

The next I heard of Sirius was in _The Daily Prophet_ the following morning.

MASS MURDER: BLACK IN AZKABAN, LIFE SENTENCE!


	2. Alone on the Moor by Mum to You

Alone on the Moor by Mum-To-You

I don't know why I decided to go to Dartmoor. I just knew I couldn't stay in the city another minute. After all that had happened, the throngs of people were an insult to my loneliness; the incessant laughing and chatter stung like vinegar on a paper cut. One thing was for certain, though. The moor looked like I felt: desolate, bleak, grey, foggy, and chilled to the very soul.

"Sirius!" The scream tore itself from my throat in an anguished howl that echoed across the fen. It was just as well no one was there to hear it. My voice sounded harsh, grating, and desperate, even to me. But I didn't cry. Not then anyway. Instead, I walked, half hoping the gaping maw of the landscape would swallow me whole.

Anything was preferable to the half-life I was condemned to face, month after month, without him. Without Sirius, who had been my friend and lover for as long as was important. My mind shifted uncomfortably and made the correction that had not yet become a reflex: _without the Sirius I thought I knew_. As it has turned out, it had all been a lie.

What had Dumbledore been thinking? The Marauders had shared everything, and the sheer nonsense of all the cloak-and-dagger secrecy, the being forbidden to tell each other where we were going and what we were doing for the Order had driven us apart. We had always done our best work together! Why couldn't Dumbledore have foreseen this? At the end, we had all begun looking at each other suspiciously, furtively. I had cravenly suspected Sirius, and I know he had harbored doubts about me. How could he not? After the debacle at the McKinnons', it had been clear that it was one of us who couldn't be trusted. I clung without comfort to the disturbing belief that if Sirius and I had been working as a team, as we should have been, I would have known. I could have prevented it, for all our sakes. As far as I was concerned, Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.

I walked faster and faster across the stretch of wilderness, strident and agitated, thinking of Sirius. Had he been a dark wizard all along? I simply couldn't bear that thought. It made a mockery of the happiest years of my life. An eleven-year-old boy simply could not dissimulate like that. No, I rationalized, it just wasn't possible. Instead, he must have succumbed to something deep within himself, something he couldn't control, something not even I could reach. That thought hurt me deeply, I freely admit. A year ago, I would have laughed uproariously at the very notion of Sirius Black's being a Death Eater, but against all odds, the proof was there. And it hurt like a festering wound. Sirius had sold Lily and James out to Voldemort, then killed Peter and a crowd of Muggles as if they were so much vermin. And he had betrayed me with a kiss.

I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against a gnarled, twisted tree, panting hard from my frantic exertion. A sharp wind turned my breath to frost, but it couldn't cool the burning on my lips that Sirius' last kiss had left. He was so panicked, so urgent, so needy, and so was I. We were hungry for each other in a way we hadn't been for a long time, but he hadn't stayed long enough to make love. He was there just to say he loved me and to sear my soul with one last kiss before he left for good. The bottom line was that he couldn't afford to trust me. And I didn't really trust him, not as I once had. Now he was in Azkaban and would never get out. I'll never see him again, and I'm not even sure I want to.

It was there on the moor, with the damp seeping into my already aching joints and the wind whipping my robes into a frenzy, that I had the most uncharitable thought I've ever had for another human being. _Why couldn't it have been Peter? _Then remorse outweighed self-pity, and I was ashamed. He had been a harmless prat, after all, and he was dead. Killed by someone he had trusted. He didn't deserve this dishonor to his memory from me, from someone whom he had called a friend. But face it, he had always been something of a ligger--not very talented or intelligent, but he seemed to need our friendship and protection, and the three of us had sort of taken him under our collective wing. _Why couldn't it have been Peter? _The thought echoed relentlessly in spite of my best intentions.

"Sirius!" Another howl escaped. I hated feeling helpless to my grief. I wanted to be resentful or indignant or angry, anything to cover and protect the suffering and vulnerability that were like an open wound in my chest. I couldn't afford to be vulnerable just then. I raged into the gale to give my fury a voice, but it wouldn't speak. There was only pain. I collapsed onto the ground, and my body was so wracked with sobs that I was certain I would shatter.

The wind shifted, and I felt the cold on my wet cheeks. The clouds covering the moon became thin and ghostlike. I could feel in my blood that it would be full soon, and I stood up, filled with an inescapable dread, and started running like a lunatic. I ran relentlessly into the middle of the moor, far away from every light, every cottage, every danger. With such unutterable agony in my heart, I had very much feared that I would kill someone that night.

As I ran, I felt the lunar shift, and my sense of smell sharpened. Heather--sweet and musky, like a corpse. Running blind into the moor, I could feel the unspeakable pain begin. Sinews snapping, bones cracking and changing shape. It is always brutal. With the last vestiges of my own thoughts before the wolf mind conquered me yet again, I remembered how Sirius had never been repulsed by me, had always held me close throughout the whole wretched ordeal, had stayed by my side during every full moon, and afterwards had been there to nurse me back to health. Month after month after month. For that alone, I would be grateful. For that, I would always, always, no matter what, love him. With that last thought, I disappeared into the wolf, and the baying began ripping my throat raw. For the first time since I could remember, I made my transformation alone.


	3. Sirius to Remus, Mid June

Mid-June  
  
Dear Remus,  
I haven't lost my knack for getting you in trouble, have I, old friend? That makes the 7,548th time, and I should know because I've been keeping track. I've been in touch with Harry, and he says you left Hogwarts after that night. That's exactly the sort of thing you would do, isn't it, Moony? I take much comfort in knowing that some people can still be counted on. Unlike me.

I have so many regrets, Remus. Mostly, though, I've been wishing we'd had time that night to talk. Just talk. I'll tell you now what I wish I could have told you then: that I bear you no animosity for believing that I betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort all those years. Under the circumstances, how could you have done anything else? I agonize over what sort of misery that must have been for you.  
  
What happened to us, Moony? How did we ever wind up suspecting and second-guessing each other after . . . everything, when the truth should have been so obvious. Please forgive me for doubting you, for not knowing any better, for not trusting my heart.  
  
One more thing, Remus. In the folly of our youth, when we thought we were invincible and indestructible, we made rash promises to each other, you and I. Promises that couldn't possibly have taken into consideration everything that happened after. I would not hold a grown man to the vows made by a boy still wet behind the ears, vows I suspect you would bind yourself to even if you've long since had a change of heart. So much time can never be reclaimed and shared now, and I know I cannot keep the promises I made to you either, not at the present and certainly not in the way I intended. For that, I also beg your forgiveness. It seems as if every time I come near you, I hurt you. God, Remus, there is so much to forgive!  
  
This much I can do: I'm enclosing the key to my Gringott's vault. It's Number 711, you know. I can't use it from here, and I've got twelve years' worth of compound bloody interest accrued, so you might as well make use of it. I absolutely forbid you to be a prat about this, Moony. Get a decent place to live, make sure you eat right, and for Merlin's sake, buy the goddamned potion. Don't make me have to come home and kick your bony arse.  
  
Yours always, I hope,  
Sirius  
  
P.S. Take a gander at the bird I'm using to get this to you. Wouldn't James just shit and fall back in it? The island girls are beautiful here, Moony. Pretty much wasted on a middle-aged poofter like me, eh? I feel just like that, too. Like I woke up one morning and was middle-aged. There's nothing much else to do here but get pissed as a newt on silly fruit drinks with umbrellas that jab you in the eye and watch my decidedly Northern European complexion blister in the sun. Having fun. Wish you were here.  
  
Paddy


	4. Remus to Sirius, Mid to Late June

Mid-Late June

Dear Sirius,  
First of all, I must say that there is nothing for which you need to feel guilty. If, however, you must hear it, then I will tell you that, yes, all is forgiven. Sirius, unless my middle-aged memory is beginning to fail me, the times in my life you have been near me have been the happiest times I have ever known. You were _not _responsible for anything that happened all those years ago. Everything we've been through makes those promises we made to each other as boys seem very grandiose and naive. From here on out, my friend, we deal with each other as grown men.  
  
I should be the one to apologize for our not being able to talk. If I hadn't been so foolish as not to take my potion, we would have been able to talk the next day. You would be a free man, and Peter would be in Azkaban. Please forgive me for making that ridiculous mistake.  
  
Sirius, I do hope you won't dwell on all this too much. I mean to say, please don't think about everything that was misunderstood and everything that was lost. I can still count on you to go absolutely crazy with guilt. Just remember that we know the truth now. Dumbledore knows the truth, as does Harry. At the moment, that's all that matters.  
  
Thank you very much for the key. It means a lot, and I will do my best to not be a prat about it. However, I can't be sure about the potion. Every few months, perhaps, but I know you don't have _that_ much money in your vault.

Sirius, please remember that you are an accused murderer on the run. Be careful. Stay hidden as well as possible. Don't waste all your money on silly fruit drinks. Especially if the umbrellas jab you in the eye. Buy sunblock. Speaking of money, I will send you some as soon as possible. Do you need it exchanged to Muggle currency? I'm not sure of the wizarding community where you are . . . wherever that is.

I can't tell you how wonderful it is to hear from you, Padfoot. Please take care and say hello to Buckbeak for me. I miss you.  
  
Remus  
  
P.S. Middle-aged poofter? I don't know if I'll ever be able to think of you as that. Especially if that makes me one as well.


	5. Sirius to Remus, Late June

Late June

Moony,

If, if, if. Too damn many of them, eh? Best we just let it go and start over fresh, I think, or else next we'll be angry with Harry for not letting us kill Wormtail in the first place. Suppose we just call it even and carry on best we can. And you're right, as usual, as long as Harry knows, it'll do for now.  
  
And that _you_ know. I cannot begin to tell you what that means to me. As I think back on all the years in Azkaban, the thought that haunted me most was the knowing what you must be thinking of me and how you must have hated me. When I would see the full moon through the bars of my cell, I would transform just so I could be with you in some small way, not that it did you any good. All I could think of was that you were alone and scared and perhaps injured, and I was letting you down again. It was almost unbearable to have the dementors feed on all that was worth remembering about you and me, leaving me with nothing but your wretched, disappointed, miserable face staring down at me. I swear I've never done anything terrible enough to deserve that!  
  
Remus, you are most definitely already being a prat about the money, and I insist that you stop it immediately. I got plenty before I left England, and there is enough there for what you need, my friend. Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT consider the potion a luxury. If I am able to return home someday only to find that you have been imprisoned or killed because of something that happened during a full moon, I shall be most put out with you indeed. Do it for me, Moony, so I can see you again. (And do try to get somebody other than Snivellus to make it for you, for Merlin's sake.)  
  
Speaking of the bleedin' money, I suppose you haven't heard. Such wonderful news! I've got . . . The House! A dream come true, eh? It comes with a huge legacy for upkeep, of which I plan to spend sod all until the hellhole falls to the ground. Then I might spend a quid or two on matches. I really am serious (smile when you say that!) about there being enough. I've checked into that potion of yours, and I believe you'll find Mummy's emeralds useful there. They're in the vault, and I am absolutely giddy at the prospect of her Slytherin Crown Jewels being ground up for your potion.  
  
I seem to move from maudlin to euphoric at a moment's notice, don't I? I think I am growing used to the idea of being alive again, Moony. Padfoot thoroughly enjoys romping in the surf, but wishes someone were around to throw a stick for him to fetch. He sends you lots of very wet, sloppy, sandy kisses, I'm afraid. How very sensual it is to remember and feel and love again. I want to eat and sleep and fuck all at the same time! Two out of three will do to be getting on with, I suppose. I think about you constantly.  
  
Sirius, Newest Keeper of the Ignoble and Most Ancient House of Black  
  
P.S. Don't fret so about my being found out. Padfoot is still an excellent disguise. I have also started turning rather brown, much to my surprise. And I got my hair cut. Shocking, I know, and it was rather a wrench, but really I am most unrecognizable with this new air of respectability.  
  
P.P.S. Keep an ear to the ground for anything unusual, Moony. Something is causing an unholy ruckus in the wizarding community here. Vacationers are whispering and gossiping with the locals, but I can't make heads or tails of it. And please keep an eye on Harry for me. Don't let those Muggles get away with any crap.  
  
P.P.P.S. You will never be middle-aged, Remus. You are eternally beautiful and young. It's just your nature.  
  
P.P.P.P.S. Sorry this is so long, but once I start talking, I can't seem to shut my gob.  
  
Padfoot


	6. Remus to Sirius, Early July

Early July

Padfoot,

I want you to know, Sirius, that as I look over those long and hard thirteen years, I don't think I ever hated you. I was sad, hurt, and angry, and I think I _tried_ to hate you for all the lies and betrayal. For the longest time I tried to hate you just so I could get over you. I stopped doing that once I realized how much I missed you. I missed the Sirius who didn't lie to and betray his best friends.

And it's so wonderful to have you back, Padfoot.

I can't tell you how much it means to hear that I was in your thoughts while you were in Azkaban. My transformations were much more terrible and painful than they had been. After years of having Padfoot, Prongs, and even Wormtail by my side, I had forgotten how horrible and how lonely it could be. You wouldn't believe the scars I have now, Sirius. Did you notice the three long, ugly scars across my face? That happened the month you were arrested.

I've been looking around trying to find someone to make the potion. I'm sure you can imagine how difficult that is. There are several potions masters who claim they specialize in rare and unusual potions, but whenever you mention the Wolfsbane Potion, they wrinkle their noses in disgust and make it very clear they don't cater to those kind of needs. I was finally able to find a place somewhere deep in Knockturn Alley. It's extremely dodgy, but it seems to be the only place, and several other werewolves buy their potions there.

Thank you for the emeralds. I normally wouldn't accept such a valuable gift, but I do appreciate the irony you are enjoying. Knowing you as well as I do, I know that alone is worth more than the value of the stones to you, so I will accept them gratefully. Unfortunately, they won't be much good the first time round. In order to make a potion for this month, the potions master should have started a week ago. He has a place for me to transform, however. It's just a cellar beneath his shop, but it will do.

I don't know if you've heard, but Dolores Umbridge has drafted a piece of Anti-Werewolf legislation that's going to make it very difficult for me to find a job. This happened after the Ministry received some angry owls from parents of Hogwarts students. I'll probably have to find a Muggle job if I can. Wish me luck.

I enjoy the very wet, sloppy, sandy kisses and miss you even more.

Remus

P.S. Have you ever considered that what might be causing this unholy ruckus could be you? Perhaps you should start moving around to other places. Please be careful, Sirius, I'm very worried about you. I don't want to lose you again.

P.P.S. I can't believe I forgot to tell you, but I've rented a small flat in Muggle London near The Leaky Cauldron. There is some definite repair needing to be done, but nothing I can't fix with magic. Thank you again.


	7. Sirius to Remus, Mid July

Mid-July  
Moony,

Something's definitely in the wind, mate, and it isn't the amiable and agreeable aroma of wet dog, I'll have you know. Buckbeak and I have moved just a little closer to home. No, not close enough to be familiar to anyone, but somewhere there are lots of tourists. I heard a couple of chaps talking, and the name Bertha Jorkins came up! Doesn't that just beat all? I don't know what she's got her conk stuck into this time, but they said something about her getting lost in Algeria or somewhere. Maybe Albania, but that seems just as unlikely, doesn't it? It wasn't so much what they said, though, as how they said it. Furtively, not wanting to be overheard. The big question I have is why the lovely Bertha would be such a mystery woman, and at her age, too. Call it instinct, Moony, but I smell a _rat._

See what you can find out. I imagine Arthur Weasley is fairly high placed in the Ministry after all these years, so maybe he's onto something. Nice bloke, but that red-headed witch he's married to used to scare the piss out of me.  
  
And while we're mentioning all the nice witches we know and love, who the hell is Dolores Umbridge? I hate her guts. People like that rarely get far though, so I wouldn't worry overmuch. Eventually they'll have to figure out that a law like that is just pants. Not that that helps you at all right now.  
  
Remus, I can't say I noticed your scars at all. As I was lying there on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, with Harry trying to kill me, yours was the last face in the world I expected to see burst through that door. And the one I most longed to see, so it was the most beautiful face in the world to me at that moment. I'm looking a little rough these days myself, mate, in case you hadn't noticed. We'll just have to take comfort in the fact that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards look even worse, won't we.  
  
I'm glad you found someone to make the potion, Remus. The mental picture I have of you skulking about Knockturn Alley trying to look sinister is quite terrifying. If I were there, I'd have a go at that potion myself. Bet I could do it, even if I had to let Snape condescend to show me how. Which reminds me, Moony. What's keeping you from joining me and Buckbeak here? If you don't have a job yet, why don't you? We could use some time to get caught up and, well, see where we stand, if you've a mind. Think about it and let me know.  
  
Much love,  
Sirius  
  
P.S. Before leaving my previous location, I picked up these chocolate-cashew-caramelly things for you, but I moved before I could send them. Don't eat them all at one go, or you'll be a sick little wolf cub.


	8. Remus to Sirius, Late July

Late July

Sirius,

I haven't heard anything about Bertha Jorkins for years, but I'll sure be keeping an eye out for the _Daily Prophet_ from now on. How much can you piece together from the rumors? I suppose I would have heard by now if something big had happened, but I just don't spend much time in the wizarding community these days. Perhaps you should owl Dumbledore about this. You've been keeping in touch with him, haven't you?

For your information, Dolores Umbridge is the newly appointed Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. A beastly woman. I think she could make a lot of trouble if she wanted. Fudge seems to rely on her quite a lot, if what the paper says is true. That can't be good.

As a point of interest, I read a mention in the paper that Ron's older brother is working for Crouch. I know how much you hate Crouch, and with excellent reason, but Percy has a level head on his shoulders and a good heart. Oh, the boy is a little immature and full of himself, but who isn't at that age? Who knows, but maybe we'll be glad of that connection, tenuous as it is, before it's all said and done.

I don't think it's a good idea to come and stay with you, Sirius, as much as I would love to. You need to concentrate on keeping yourself and Buckbeak well and hidden, and I really need to work on finding a job. I think I'll have much better chances at finding one here in London. There are a few small Muggle desk jobs that I'm looking at. Besides, the person who makes my potions lives here. What would I do during the full moons? You just make sure you're safe from the Dementors and the Ministry, and then maybe we can think about it.

Take care, Padfoot.

Love,

Remus

P.S. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for those chocolate-cashew-caramelly things. They were absolute heaven. And for your information, werewolves have a much more stable metabolism than regular wolves. Believe me, chocolate is no problem.

P.P.S. I've just had a thought, Padfoot. How are you getting along down there without magic? I imagine they snapped your wand when you were arrested, so maybe I could go to Ollivander's and get one made for you.


	9. Sirius to Remus, Mid August

Mid-August

Moony,

I'm afraid you've missed your chance for a holiday in the sun. By the time you get this, I'll be on my way back to England.

I did as you suggested and contacted Dumbledore about Bertha Jorkins. He said that the most recent rumors about Voldemort indicated that he was last heard of in—get this—Albania. He also mentioned some reports from his usual network about a Muggle who was running around the bars in Tirana telling a funny story about how he thought he was going to be mugged in a mews, but turned around to find it was only a rat. I don't like it, Remus.

Then, to top it all off, Hedwig showed up with a letter from Harry telling me his scar was hurting again. He says it was hurting before when Voldemort was near Hogwarts his first year. You're the Dark Arts swot, Remus. What do you think about Harry's scar? Merlin, Moony, I have a bad feeling about all this.

And yes, please go to Ollivander's and get me a new wand. I found one in a rubbish bin here, but it's crap. Probably has Cornish pixie wings in the core. Fourteen and three-quarters inches, ebony, dragon heartstring, in case you don't remember. The old man will probably get suspicious, but if he says anything, it'll be to Dumbledore, so we don't need to worry.

Remus, if none of those desk jobs has panned out, I have a huge favor to ask. Go open up Uncle Alphard's cottage in Bristol. Stock up on food and supplies. I'm going to need a place to hide while we sort this out, and that'll be as good as anywhere and safer than London. Eventually, I plan to go to Hogwarts, at least for a while, to check on Harry, but Dumbledore says it's too soon for me to make an appearance around Hogsmeade yet. There was a time I could have worked my way round Rosie, but I'd best not chance it now. I'm not nearly as cute as I used to be.

I know it's a lot to ask, Remus, and I certainly don't expect you to stay there with me. Unless you want to. Oh hell, never mind. I have no right even to ask that of you now.

Sirius

P.S. A desk job? Moony, Moony, Moony.


	10. Remus to Sirius, Late August

Late August   
Sirius,

I'm writing from Bristol. I left the day after your owl came and found the cottage just fine. It looks exactly the same as it always has, but it will need some major cleaning. The house is ready for you and Buckbeak anytime. I've been working on a little cleaning just so you won't be killed in your sleep by the Lethifold that was lurking underneath the bed or the colony of Doxies living in the curtains

I'm including your wand that I bought before I came down here. Yes, Mr. Ollivander was extremely suspicious, but I made it very clear that it was Dumbledore's business and I knew nothing about it.

If you've been able to stop in any wizarding village just for a few moments, you'll see that Bertha Jorkins is indeed in trouble. However, we can't completely trust what the _Prophet _says because Rita Skeeter wrote the article. This means that barely a third of what was written was actually true; however, the hard part is knowing which third to trust. I'm sure Dumbledore has suspected Peter, but good luck finding his name in the papers. Just keep your contacts with Dumbledore, and I'm sure we'll eventually make sense of all this.

Harry never complained of his scar hurting while I was with him, but of course, Voldemort was nowhere near. The signs do make sense, though. A part of Voldemort is with him in the scar, so it would have some reaction to his presence or power. Knowing Voldemort's current condition, I expect the connection between them is not very strong at all. However, if Voldemort ever returns to full power and is aware of his connection with Harry, he would have practically unlimited access to Harry's mind. We know that Voldemort is a master Legilimens, so you can imagine how he would use this connection that's already there to his advantage. Harry, in return, would be able to sense Voldemort's thoughts, but of course, at his age he just doesn't have the ability. I suspect Harry could become a superb Legilimens and Occlumens with a little bit of practice. Right now, we just know that he's safe as long as he's at the Dursley's. Has Harry written Dumbledore at all about this? I would suggest that to him.

Now, Sirius, I completely understand if you would like to just use the cottage as a hideout, but would it be all right if I stayed in Bristol for a while? There is a small Muggle bookshop in the town needing some workers. I stopped in there for a moment to inquire on the position. The pay is relatively good, and I'd be able to take off a few days each month to visit my sick mother in Scotland. I didn't give the owner a final answer because I wanted to make sure it was all right with you first.

I'm thinking of you constantly. Please stay safe on your trip up to England.

Remus


	11. Sirius to Remus, Mid September

Mid September  
Dear Remus,

So what you're saying is that you think Voldemort is trying to make a comeback, aren't you? I wish I could tell you my gut says otherwise, but you'd know I was lying. Damn Wormtail for making fools of us again! We should have killed him when we had the chance.

I don't need to tell you what this means, do I, Moony? It means our number one job now is to use whatever means necessary to keep Harry safe until he's, well, ready. We both know that's paramount. Voldemort is probably trying to kill him and make it look like an accident, and we can't let that happen, no matter what.

You mentioned that Harry would be safe as long as he was with Peony or Primrose or whatever the hell her name is. What you might not have known is that he wasn't there much at all! He's been staying with Arthur and Molly Weasley. (I finally remembered her name, after years of trying to repress it. Fair gives me the collywobbles, she does.) Dumbledore gave his blessing, so I suppose it was all right.

Normally, I wouldn't give them, or anyone but Dumbledore, good odds against Voldemort, but if he were to go after one of her chicks, I'd be tempted to put my money on Molly. And Harry, it would seem, is one of her chicks. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I can't do much about it from here save accept it. Arthur, as I remember, knows his potatoes, so between them I suppose they could've managed just about anything that might have come up. I'm becoming quite the worrier, eh? Harry's safely tucked in at Hogwarts now, so no harm done, and I've written him to let him know I'm heading north. Hedwig has a long way to go, so I don't know when he'll get it. Bet you fifty Galleons his next owl tries to convince me he's fine.

I did pick up a paper, and you're right. Bertha's a goner. And while we're on the subject of current events, what the bloody hell happened at the Quidditch World Cup? Were there really bodies all over the place? And the Dark Mark's appearing makes me think that Wormtail has found Voldemort. I think Voldemort sent Peter to the World Cup to stir up trouble. I imagine those Death Eaters who got away last time practically cacked themselves, didn't they?

Lethifolds and doxies? All we need now are a boggart and a vile little house elf, and it'll be just like home! Moony, I can't wait to see you again. I think my tail is wagging harder than Padfoot's. You've been skirting the real issue as much as I have, but one thing gives me hope: you stayed in Bristol. I wanted that more than anything, but I didn't dare come right out and ask. I hope that means that you want to, well, at least see if we can make things work again between us. Oh, I know it's been thirteen years, and a lot has happened that we can't magically fix. I imagine it's going to take a lot of talking, a lot of listening, a lot of healing, and a lot of patience, but you are saying you want to try, aren't you? I promise to work hard on the patience part.

Merlin, I'm going to feel such a fool if I'm misunderstanding you.

All my love,  
Pads


	12. Decision by Twix, Late September

Decision by Twix

Remus Lupin stepped inside the kitchen of the small cottage and nearly dropped his cane in surprise. An owl was sitting just inside the open window above the sink with a letter fastened to its leg. Of course, Remus knew the only person who would be writing him was Sirius, but he hadn't been expecting a reply owl so soon. He must be closer, Remus thought. He quickly took the letter from the owl and opened it. Remus didn't move and barely breathed as he eagerly read the letter.

When he finished reading, he exhaled slowly, taking in the contents of the last paragraph. So this was it. Sirius was coming to Bristol, and they would stay there in the cottage. Together. Did this mean they were going to start over and try again? That was obviously Sirius' intention . . . is that what Remus wanted?

Deep in thought, Remus walked into the drawing room and sat down at the desk, where a clean piece of parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink were waiting for him. He set the letter down in front of him.

What did he want? A part of him immediately said, of course he wanted to work things out with Sirius. He was ready to put the past behind him and start over again.

But, yet . . .

They wouldn't be able to go back to normal for a long time, back to the way it had been--whatever that meant. Who knew how long Sirius would be on the run and what might be in store for Remus for the upcoming years? Remus didn't want to let Sirius down. He couldn't bear to hurt him again. He loved Sirius. He loved him more than Sirius knew, and it was because of this love that Remus didn't want to risk hurting him again. He refused to put Sirius though all that. And, as selfish as it sounded, Remus had to admit that he didn't want to be hurt and disappointed again either.

Remus glanced down at the letter again. _All my love, Pads_. Then it hit him.  
Sirius loved him.

And because of this love, Remus knew the only way they'd get through it all, was if they were together. Neither the past nor the future mattered right now. What mattered was that more than anything, Remus and Sirius needed to be together. They both needed the love, the company, the safety, and the comfort that they could only find in each other.

Remus picked up his quill, dipped it lightly in the ink, and wrote:

_Sirius,   
I'm sorry that I took longer than usual to reply, but last night was the full moon, and I needed to rest. Everything went as well as it could have gone. Your cellar has a few marks on the wall, but other than that, no harm done. _

_I'm sure there was no reason to worry about Harry. I think it's wonderful that he's one of Molly's "chicks," and so should you, Padfoot. Harry needs a mother figure in his life, and as he has no godmother, Molly is perfect for the job. If their own children are any indication, she and Arthur know what they're about where kids are concerned. You can rest easy knowing that extra eyes are watching out for him. _

_I hope Harry's year is getting off to a good start. Did you know Mad-Eye Moody is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? I sent him an owl before term started telling him what I covered in the classes last year. I imagine the students are having an interesting year with him._

_Did you read in the Daily Prophet about Mad-Eye's being attacked at his house the night before term started at Hogwarts? It's difficult to say if this was a real attack or something out of Moody's imagination. I don't know about you, but I still feel very uneasy about this. Someone could have been trying to keep him from Hogwarts, away from Harry. _

_Unfortunately, I know just as much as you do about the Quidditch World Cup. But once again, Rita Skeeter wrote the article, so I would definitely want to get those happenings confirmed by an official. I would write Arthur, but I'm sure he's plenty busy with work these days. If Harry was at The Burrow, perhaps he went? I hope everyone there is safe and sound. Having taught five of the children makes me feel closer to that family than I have a right to, I guess. _

_You know, I wouldn't be surprised at all if Wormtail was the one to conjure the Dark Mark. I would like to think it was just some drunken Death Eater trying to cause some chaos, but I suppose that's hopeless, isn't it? The way the article said the Death Eaters fled when they saw it in the sky . . . I have a feeling this is something much more serious._

_Please get here as quickly and safely as you possibly can, Padfoot. The house is practically sparkling now, and I'm impatiently cleaning little nonsense things. It is a good thing your uncle has a large library, or I would have gone mad by now._

Remus paused before continuing and set down the quill. He rubbed his face with his hands and stared at the parchment for several minutes. This was it, and after the words were committed to parchment, they would be committed to heart as well. Then again, they really already were. He took a deep breath, picked up the quill, and wrote quickly and surely.

_And you have certainly not misunderstood me. I know it will take time and patience, but after thirteen years of misunderstandings, I'm more than willing, Padfoot. _

_Love,   
Moony_


	13. Sirius to Remus, Mid October

Mid-October  
From Belgium

Dear Remus,  
Now why in the hell would the cellar have marks on the walls if you had been taking your potion? Don't make me have to force it down your throat, you little tosser, because you know I will. Now no more of this nonsense, or you're in big trouble, mate. Anyway, you'll want to be looking your best for when a certain special someone comes to visit you very, very soon, won't you?

Other bits and bobs: I've heard from Harry. I've told him to owl me immediately if anything unusual happens. He did go to the World Cup with the Weasleys. Game was great, the other not so. No dead bodies, but someone did nick Harry's wand and use it to conjure that Dark Mark. Coincidence? I don't think so. Mad-Eye Moody is the new Dark Arts teacher? That can only mean Dumbledore is worried. That makes three of us, eh?

If all goes well, I'll back be in England by tomorrow night.

Love you,  
Paddy

P.S. Did you hear about the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts? Sounds like a blast. If they'd had it our seventh year, we would have so kicked arse! Harry is so lucky!

P.P.S. Padfoot wants to hump your leg. Thought you'd want a warning on that.

P.P.P.S. I really do, you know.

P.P.P.P.S. Love you, I mean.


	14. Remus to Sirius, Late October

Late October  
Dear Sirius,

Don't worry about me! You should be more concerned with getting yourself to Bristol safely. This last month went just fine. It would have been too much of a hassle to travel to London every day, and I thought, since there was a place here to transform, that I might as well use it and save a few Galleons.

Are you telling me it was Harry's wand that put that Dark Mark up in the sky? How on earth did that happen? Does he have any idea who did this? I suppose we can talk more in detail about this when you get here.

The thought of Mad-Eye's being a teacher is rather funny, isn't it? I wonder what the students think of him--I'm sure they'll never have a teacher like that again. That was a good move of Dumbledore to get someone he knows for sure he can trust. Harry will be much safer with him there.

The Tri-Wizard Tournament sounds like so much fun. I really wish we could have had it when we were at school. It's too bad that Harry's not of age so he could compete. I'm sure we'll hear more about it in _The Prophet_.

I apologize for such a short letter, but it seems silly to write much if you'll be here so soon.

I love you.

Remus


	15. Sirius to Remus, Early November

Early November

Remus,  
It's bad, mate, and I fear it's going to get much worse. I just got an owl from Harry, and someone's managed to enter his name in the tournament. He got picked as a fourth champion. 

Merlin, Remus, he's just a boy! How could something like this have happened right under both Dumbledore's and Mad-Eye's noses? I'm terrified for him, Moony. He's magically bound to compete now, and it must have something to do with Voldemort. When I get my hands on Peter, I swear I'm going to kill him, with my bare hands if I have to. I know he's behind this. I just know it.

I'm writing this from Dover, but I won't be here by the time you get this, of course. I think someone recognized me yesterday, so I don't dare take a direct route to get to Bristol. I'll have to move slowly. It's hard to keep both myself and a hippogriff hidden from sight. Please be patient with me. I'll get there one way or another, I promise you that.

I'm so tired, Remus. When will all this end? I'm tired of running and tired of being scared all the time. Everything is just so dark and crowding in on me, and I can't see the way through. Somehow, I haven't any confidence that the truth will ever come out. My greatest fear is that I'll be in hiding for the rest of my life, and I'd rather die than live like this a moment longer.

Sirius


	16. Remus to Sirius, Mid November

Mid-November

Sirius,

You have to do something about your current condition. Take a few days to rest and eat something other than rats. I insist that you stop by Grimmauld Place, where you'll be safely hidden. Get that house-elf to cut your hair, and maybe you'll be less recognizable. I know you hate that place, but it's somewhere where you'll be safe. Don't worry about getting to Bristol as fast as you can. My biggest concern right now is making sure you're healthy and safe. I'll still be here, I promise.

I'm really worried about you, Sirius. Please don't give up hope. You can't give up now when you're so close. Harry needs you, and I need you.

I'm thinking of you constantly.

Love,  
Remus 


	17. On the Way Home by Mum to You, Late Nov

On the Way Home by Mum-to-You

"This isn't home, and it won't ever be," Sirius thought, and he shuddered as he started up the stairs. The eyes of old house-elves stared sightlessly at him. Behind him, the shuffling of small feet chafed on the mouldy, aging carpet. There was a stumble, and that awful umbrella stand he hated so much clattered to the floor and crashed into the wall. Immediately, the curtain near the door flew open, and Sirius heard a voice he had hoped never to hear again.

"YOU! COME HOME TO CLAIM YOUR INHERITANCE, I SEE. FINALLY MADE SOMETHING OF YOURSELF, I HEARD. QUITE A SET-TO THAT WAS, BUT AS IT WAS ONLY MUGGLES--"

"Shut up, you nasty old bitch! Just shut up!" Sirius screamed at his mother's charmed portrait. "I didn't spend all those years in Azkaban just to come back and be congratulated by you!"

"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME IN THAT TONE, BOY. IT'S THE ONE WORTHWHILE THING YOU'VE EVER DONE, EVEN IT DOES MAKE MY OWN SON A MURDERER. WORTH IT, I--"

"I didn't kill anyone, do you hear me!"

"YOU LIE! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"

"You heard me," he repeated with steel in his voice. "I didn't kill anyone. No Muggles, no anyone. It was Pettigrew. I was innocent. I would never have betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort."

"YOU DARE SPEAK THAT NAME! GET OUT, YOU BLOOD TRAITOR! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Get out of _my_ house. Or climb down off that wall and make me leave, _Mummy_." Sirius jerked the curtains back in place, and the noise from the portrait stilled. He spun around and looked down at the house-elf. "You did that on purpose, didn't you, Kreacher?" he snapped.

"Oh, how could young Master say such a thing? Kreacher is getting old, can't see very well." The little elf's nose was practically brushing the ground as he bowed, but his bulbous eyes narrowed with loathing and suspicion as he looked up.

"Right," Sirius muttered. "I'll need something to eat, Kreacher. And so will the hippogriff. Hurt him, and I'll kill you." Kreacher's eyes widened at his matter-of-fact tone. "Then draw me a bath, and get me the papers. Oh, and I'll need a haircut. But first--" Sirius sighed and looked up the steep stairs. "First, I need to sleep. I don't want to be disturbed," he finished, and then he turned without a second glance at the house-elf and walked up the stairs.

Without thinking about it and without realizing it, Sirius had become the lord of the manor, and Kreacher sensed his authority and hastened to obey. The house had a new master, and Kreacher had no choice but to follow a direct order. Besides, the Mistress hadn't hated her son quite so much towards the end. Kreacher would obey. And watch.

Sirius hesitated at the door of his old room. He hadn't set foot in it in over twenty years. He turned the doorknob slowly and took a deep breath before entering. He walked in, looked around, and sighed. The room was just like him. Nothing had changed, just aged. The curtains and bed linens were dusty and faded, the fabric almost translucent in places. He took out his wand and waved it towards the fireplace, saying, _"Incendio!_" At once, there was a fire burning, and the room began to warm.

He shivered against the sudden warmth and pulled a chair up to the hearth. He sat down and pulled out Remus' most recent letter with disgust. "Who the hell does Remus think he is?" Sirius thought. "Bossing me around like a child in nappies. What a prick!" Sirius got up and rummaged angrily through the dresser for parchment and a quill. He dipped the quill into what remained of a nearly dry bottle of ink and started to write.

But before he marked on the parchment, he paused. "You promised to work hard on the patience," he remembered to himself. He would need it, too, if Remus was going to be like this. He threw the quill back down on the table and stood up abruptly.

"AAAUUUGH!" he roared. Then he leapt up, grabbed the desk chair, and hurled it at the wall. "Damn him, anyway!" Breaking something made him feel better, so he seized up Remus' preposterous letter and hurled it onto the fire. He watched it ignite and smolder for a minute, the firelight casting eerie shadows on his hollow cheeks. Then just as impulsively, he stuck his hand into the flames and grabbed the letter back.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, as he stuck his burned fingers into his mouth and stamped out the flames with his shoe. He looked around the room frantically as if looking for something he had lost. "Oh, Remus, what's wrong with me? I think I'm losing my mind," he murmured to himself. He dropped to the floor and carefully sifted thought the charred bits of parchment for what remained of his hasty judgment. On the scrap of parchment, three words remained in Remus' neat, ordered, decisive hand: _I need you._

Tears of fatigue and frustration ran down Sirius' face as he cradled his blistering hand. He was too tired even to think. Then it dawned on him that Remus somehow, in some way, instinctively knew that. And Remus had done the thinking for him. Tears of relief began to flow in earnest, and he made no attempt to stop them. After being alone for so long, he had his partner again. This was that "for better or for worse" thing they had promised each other so long ago, and it seemed as if they finally were being given a chance to keep the promises that had meant so much at the time. And did again now, in even more profound ways than they had ever imagined.

Sirius stood, turned on his heel, and looked back at the blank parchment on the dresser, then shook his head. He still wasn't ready to reply. He would be patient--with Remus and with himself. Clutching the charred bit of parchment painfully in his burned hand, Sirius flung himself on the bed and slept like the dead.

A few days later, Sirius was back on the road again, rested, healthier, saner. Somewhere outside of Exeter, he paused under a tree to wait for nightfall. In the remaining light of a blessedly warm evening, he smiled to himself as he thought about what he wanted to say. Remus had been right, damn him. And God love him. Sirius took out the parchment and quill and began the reply in his distinctive, belligerent scrawl.

_Dear Remus,  
I took your advice and stayed at the house in London for a few days. As usual, your advice was spot on, even if you can be a real bastard when you try. I'm better rested and feeling more, well, positive about things. Going to London was more dangerous than I wanted, but at least that nasty little toerag of a house elf can't snitch on me. I also got him to trim up my hair a bit, so I hope you're right that I'm less likely to be recognized. I obviously had to stay in the house the whole time, and I have to say that I hope I never have to spend that much time there ever again. Not exactly cheerful accommodations, but at least I could rest up a bit and catch up on the news in the _Prophet.

_I'm back on the road with Bucky again, and I managed to break into a house somewhere near the coast in Devon to talk to Harry. How did I know it was a wizard house, you might ask? Believe me, if this house hadn't been held together with magic, it wouldn't have stood up! Made quite a ruckus getting in, what with chickens and garden gnomes all over the place, but fortunately no one was home. I was able to make away with a couple of really good mince pies, too. That was a treat, but Merlin, I hate stealing. I probably could have snooped a bit to find out whose house it is, but I stuck to the kitchen and took care of my business. Maybe someday I can find a way to repay them, whoever they are._

_Now for Harry. Christ on a bike, Moony, he's in trouble. The first task is something to do with a load of fucking dragons! And unfortunately someone interrupted us before I could help him much with that. I was thinking of getting at the eyes with a _Conjunctivitis_ curse, but I didn't get a chance to explain how to do it. Let's hope Hermione was able to help him figure something out with that because the Weasley boy is being an absolute prat about things, and they aren't even speaking! I'll try to find a paper for an update, but I'm trying to stay hidden as much as possible. _

_I think the Ron situation is the worst part for Harry, you know. Harry says everyone, including Ron, of all people, thinks he's on some sort of ego trip and that Hermione says Ron is just jealous. Can you imagine anyone wanting to trade places with the boy? Just ridiculous! He says what that Skeeter woman you mentioned has been writing about him is a load of crap, but everyone is still treating him like a leper. Think what it would've been like to face a dragon without your best mates behind you, Remus. It never would've happened to us, would it? James would've been the front man, but it would always be a group effort, right?_

_I also told Harry to watch out for Igor Karkaroff. He was in prison with me for a bit, but he managed to talk his way out by naming names. The Death Eaters in Azkaban hate his guts, I know that. I've been reading between the lines on the news, and I think that attack on Moody was the real deal and that someone wanted to keep him away from Hogwarts. I also think Bertha managed to cross paths (Thanks, Wormtail!) with Voldemort and spilled the beans about the Tournament. Someone very much wants to hurt Harry and make it look like an accident. It can't be Peter because he can only do so much as a rat, and even less as a human. So you're right, there must be someone else at Hogwarts who's a Death Eater. That means Karkaroff or Snape. Take your pick, right? Hell, maybe it's both._

_All right, I'm talking myself back into a depression here, and I'm on my way to see my best mate in the whole world. That will never do! I'll owl you again when I have an idea when I'll be there. Buckbeak says to give you a big kiss._

_Love you,  
Padfoot_

_P.S. When all is said and done, thank you for keeping your promises so faithfully. Thank you for sharing the burden when it was too much for me. Thank you for giving me hope. I love you more than you can know.  
_

_P.P.S. Have you given any thought at all as to what in the bloody hell we're going to tell Harry?_

Sirius sent the owl winging its way towards Bristol with his letter. Once darkness fell completely, he mounted Buckbeak and began the last leg of his journey home.


	18. Remus to Sirius, Early December

Early December

Sirius,  
I'm so relieved you were able to stop by the house and get some rest. I hope things go more smoothly for you and that the rest of your journey is without incident. Please muster the hope to keep yourself going. Hope can help you get through any problems that might arise. Remember, you're close enough that I can come and get you if need be. Just say the word.

As for your news, I'm really surprised that Ron would feel that way towards Harry. They've been friends long enough now that he should know Harry hates all the attention he gets. In case you haven't read the papers, Harry did a great job against his dragon, using a Summoning Charm to bring his Firebolt to him. He's doing really well, and I can't imagine whoever is at Hogwarts trying to hurt him can be feeling too good about things.

Have you written to Dumbledore about your suspicious on the Death Eater at Hogwarts? I'm sure he has his own theory, and it would be interesting to hear his take on things.

I know you don't like Snape, but I highly doubt he is a Death Eater anymore. Dumbledore trusts him, and that's good enough for me. His trust means a lot, and he always has good reasons for it. Dumbledore believed in me when so many people assumed I was untrustworthy, just because of what I am. Remember that Snape could have done practically anything to me at any time last year with my potion, but he never did. I'd say Severus is right out of it, Sirius.

On the other hand, I would definitely keep an eye out for Karkaroff. How is he getting along with Mad-Eye there? Wasn't he the one to arrest him in the first place?

Stay safe, Padfoot. I love you very much.

Remus


	19. Remus to Sirius, December 10

December 10

Sirius,

I expected to hear from you by now, and I'm starting to get scared. Are you okay?

Remus


	20. Sirius to Remus, December 12

December 12  
Dear Remus,

I'm okay, mate. Had a bit of a delay around Reading. Let's just say that some people really should consider keeping their Rottweilers penned up at night. They aren't exactly welcoming to lovable strays, and there was quite a tussle. I'm proud to say that Padfoot held his own, but he just wasn't any match for a brace of the bastards, and I was laid up with fever for a bit when it didn't want to heal properly. It's nothing you need worry over now. I'm right as rain again.

I saw the write-up in the paper about Harry. Either he's ruddy brilliant, or someone gave him better advice than I would have! I'm really proud of him. It was a rather Jamesian solution, wasn't it?

All the rest can keep until I see you, which should be in a couple of days at most. I absolutely promise you I'll be there by the full moon. Hard luck its falling so near the holidays, but you'll be all right again in time to have a happy Christmas, won't you? We'll just sleep in and be lazy all week and lick each other's wounds and take care of each other after all our exciting adventures, just like old times.

All my love,  
Sirius

P.S. Leave a light on, love. I'm coming home.


	21. One Thing At A Time by Mum to You

One Thing at a Time by Mum-to-You

December 14

The big black dog shook his powerful body and sat down on his haunches. He brought his back leg up and scratched behind his ear as he peered out from the cover of the bramble bushes near the shoreline. Suddenly, he tensed and became alert. A whimper escaped from his throat, and his tail beat a staccato on the ground. His great, hulking frame quivered with such excitement that he could barely sit still.

The man was walking along the beach slowly, carefully, steadying himself with a cane. He was a tall man, lithe and lanky, with intense amber-flecked eyes. The setting sun on the horizon glinted in the grey strands threaded through his sandy brown hair and accentuated the lines of fatigue and early aging in his face. In spite of his infirmity, he moved with a fluid grace. He seemed preoccupied, lost in thought, and he stopped for a moment to gaze up the shoreline with a searching expression.

The dog smothered a yelp and crept out of the brambles on his belly, quietly, stealthily, approaching the man from behind. When he was near enough to the man to smell the chocolate he always carried in his pockets, he darted around to face him. Then, with a bark, he pounced.

His heavy, furred feet hit the man squarely in the chest and knocked him down onto the soft sand. He went down with a breathless grunt and covered his face with his arms to ward off the attack. The dog's tail thumped hard against the man's leg, and he whimpered and nosed his muzzle under the man's arms to get at his face.

"Dammit, Sirius!" the man protested, "You scared the hell out of me! Get off!"

The dog ignored the command and began licking the man's face with his wet, sloppy, sandy tongue. The man struggled with half-hearted gestures and complaints, but when the dog's tongue moved down to his neck, slurping and slobbering, the man began to laugh. It was a deep, throaty, from-the-heart laugh that made the dog bark.

The dog leapt off the man's chest and bounded down the shoreline. By the time he returned with a stick in his toothy mouth, the man was standing, leaning on his cane, ineffectually brushing sand from his clothes. He looked down at the dog with mock severity and muttered, "You big git."

The dog growled and dropped the stick at the man's feet. He barked gleefully and hunkered down with his front feet out and his haunches in the air, tail wagging furiously.

"Bad dog. You are a very, very bad dog," the man said. He spoke to the dog as if he could actually understand what he was saying. "If you think I have any intention whatsoever of playing fetch with you--"

The dog looked up at the man intently and growled.

"Oh, all right, you great prat." The man picked up the stick and hurled it into the surf. "There. Take that."

The dog catapulted himself into the icy sea with abandon. When he returned with the stick, the man was sitting precariously on a large piece of driftwood. He dropped the stick at the man's feet, and then shook his fur vigorously, spraying the man with water.

"Merlin's beard, Padfoot!" the man laughed, wiping his face with his sleeve. "You smell of fish." He looked into the dog's big grey eyes for a moment and sighed. With a resigned air, he made an elaborate show of propping his cane up against the driftwood and methodically adjusting his cloak in a measured, calm manner. Then without warning, he heaved himself at the great canine with a howl, and the two rolled over and over in the sand, the game punctuated by shouts and barks.

They rolled to a stop at the edge of the water. The man lay on his back, panting and breathless, but smiling. The dog nonchalantly climbed up onto the man's chest and sat there looking down into those amber eyes with a doggy grin, as if officially declaring himself the winner. He lowered his head and licked the man right on the lips, then climbed off and sat down beside him.

With a groan, the man pulled himself up to sitting and stroked the dog's head. He put his arms around his ruff and buried his face in the thick, black fur. In his animal mind, the dog sensed that the man needed comforting and company, and so he remained very still, with his muzzle over the man's shoulder. The man sighed heavily, and the dog let out a thin whimper.

After a moment, the man murmured into the fur, "I have missed you so much." There was an ache in the man's voice that echoed across years of loneliness. The dog whimpered again, then pawed at the man's chest, panting heavily in the man's face. "Sirius," the man chortled, "your breath would stun a hippogriff at twenty paces, mate. What _have_ you been eating now?"

On reflex the dog's head shook, and he gave a doggy sneeze. Then he barked and ran a few paces away from the man. He stopped, looked back over his withers, and barked again, as if insisting the man follow. The man got up, took up his cane, and hurried after with the air of someone who wanted to break into a run, but couldn't. The dog bounded ahead with glee, tail wagging.

The man walked up the lane away from the shore and lifted the latch on a gate in front of a small, tidy cottage. Just as he fastened the latch behind him, he was attacked again. This time his assailant was a thin, dark-haired man, who threw his arms around the taller man's neck and his legs around his waist.

"Remus!" the man shouted joyfully, "I'm home!"

"And smelling of fish," Remus added merrily. In spite of his limp, he had barely flinched when the other man leapt on him. There was a wild strength about Remus Lupin that was belied by his frail, slender frame. He embraced the dark-haired man fiercely, as if he were afraid he might get away and never be seen again.

"I am rather disgusting. Sorry about that," Sirius agreed, and he ran a hand over his scraggly beard. "Perhaps a tidy-up would be in order." He seemed light-hearted, but his voice was a hoarse bark.

The two men untangled their limbs and turned to walk into the cottage. Sirius shivered, and Remus draped an arm over his shoulders as they walked to the kitchen door. Once inside, he looked at Sirius with concern, hesitated a moment, and then barraged him with questions. "You're freezing, aren't you? What about your injury? Have you eaten?"

Sirius nodded and rubbed his cold, stiff hands together and nodded. "Comfortably full of rat at the moment, thanks. And the occasional ferret. Greasy buggers, but Bucky is partial to them. And I'm fine. I told you not to worry, Remus." His eyes darted around the room, drinking in the homey comforts. "Nice place you've got here, mate."

Remus smiled. "I make do by myself here. It actually belongs to a friend."

"Really?" asked Sirius, "he must be something to let you have the place."

"He is something indeed," Remus explained, "although just what remains to be discovered." He looked around the room and sniffed. "Judging from the smell, I'd say mostly tuna."

"God, I know. Even Buckbeak gets offended. For the last three days, I've dreamt of nothing but warm, cascading water and that delicious sandalwood soap you use. I think I might have sand mites down me pants, too."

Remus chuckled sympathetically and said, "That must itch terribly." He gestured down the short hallway and added, "Well, off with you then, you malodorous mongrel. You know where everything is. I'll make us some tea while you shower."

"Ooh, I love it when you use big words like that, Moony," Sirius answered with a smirk. He wriggled his eyebrows and added, "Back in a flash."

Sirius made a beeline for bathroom, discarding his disreputable robes and underthings down the hallway. Remus could hear the sound of spraying water over his friend's singing "Hark the Herald Banshees Scream" in a hoarse, but credible baritone. He smiled as he busied himself with the tea things. In all truth, he wondered at his friend's upbeat, jovial mood, speculated that perhaps Sirius was trying too hard. "Ah, well," he thought, "there'll be time enough for that. Let him have a happy homecoming." Remus walked over to the counter for the biscuit tin, and that's when he saw it: a five-pound box of Belgian chocolates sitting next to the sugar bowl. Attached to it was a card that read _Happy Christmas, Moony_, and the sight of it made him bite his lip to keep from crying.

Sirius took a very long time in the shower. Remus had to reheat the water for the tea three times. Eventually, though, he made an appearance in the sitting room, his shaggy hair dripping, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his emaciated waist. He grinned at Remus and sighed, "Heaven. Absolute heaven. I still can't take that kind of thing for granted." He looked around the room, touched by Remus' meager attempts at holiday decorating. "You've hung up rather a lot of mistletoe, Moony," he noted with another grin.

"Yes," Remus answered, dead-pan, "I think it provides a . . . festive . . . touch." He examined Sirius furtively for injuries and was relieved to see that his recently acquired dog bite really was almost healed. "Tea's ready," he offered. "You go ahead. I just had a romp with some disgusting, smelly dog, so I think I'll shower, too. Don't wait for me." After a pause, he added, "I found the chocolates. Thank you."

Sirius grinned again. "I stopped here first to hide Buckbeak in the shed, then I came looking for you." He wrinkled up his nose and sniffed, then said, "Shite, Lupin, go have a wash. You reek of fish." Remus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He turned, smiling, and walked down the hallway towards the bathroom, stopping to pick up Sirius' scattered clothing on the way.

After a short while, Remus returned to the sitting room wearing a comfortably faded dressing gown knotted loosely about his slender hips. He immediately noticed that the tea things were untouched and that Sirius was nowhere in sight. With a worried expression, he turned back down the hallway to his room in the back of the house to get dressed. As he passed the front bedroom, Remus found him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed staring vacantly out the window. His profile was taut and skeletal, and his eyes had a hunted and haunted look. Remus drew a thumb across his bottom lip and watched him for a few moments, thinking of Sirius' owl from earlier in the summer after his escape. "He was right. He does need everything at once," he reflected sadly, "but I can only give him one thing at a time."

Remus took a deep breath and slipped onto the bed behind Sirius. He draped one arm around his chest to pull him close. He leaned down and asked softly, "If you had to choose, which would you want to do first--eat, sleep, or fuck?"

Sirius leaned his head back on Remus' shoulder and, after a long while, answered, "I have managed to do a fair amount of eating and sleeping, Remus."

There was another lengthy pause in the conversation, but when Remus answered, all he said was, "Well, that's that then." Then he leaned down and kissed Sirius softly on the neck, letting his tongue trace a wet line down his shoulder. Sirius shuddered and gasped aloud. "Turn around, Sirius," Remus demanded. When Sirius did, the hollow, tormented look was gone. Sirius was back under his own skin, and Remus bent down to kiss him.

Thirteen years worth of kisses were exchanged. Tongues licked salt and sandalwood off skin, and hands entwined with damp hair. Bedclothes somehow disarranged themselves, and Remus pressed Sirius to the bed, resting his weight gently on top of him. He burrowed his face into Sirius' neck, reveling in the sensation of Sirius' beard. He hadn't had that thirteen years ago, and Remus rather liked it. His mouth worked its way down Sirius' chest, taking the time to linger over the more sensitive areas, and he remembered them all by heart. By the time he removed the wet towel from around Sirius' waist, there wasn't much left to accomplish.

Sirius yelped. Somewhere in the animal mind that persisted whenever he spent too much time transformed, he was beyond reason. All he knew was that it was wet and warm every place that mattered. His hands gripped the twisted sheets as he willed himself to be still, to make it last, but it was no use. A few quick thrusts and a shriek, and it was over.

Remus wiped his mouth on the sheet and pulled himself up on all fours to look at Sirius. His eyes were closed, and he almost looked like the boy he had once been. Remus leaned down and kissed his eyelids and then his mouth. "Mmm," he noted with a half-smile, "Minty fresh now. I appreciate that."

"Don't thank me too soon, Moony. I had to use your toothbrush," he laughed, then he kissed Remus back and added, "You, on the other hand, now taste . . . like me," Sirius pointed out with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Even better then," Remus murmured as he lay down beside him. Sirius snuggled up to Remus' neck and sighed contentedly. After a moment, he chuckled and said, "Remus, what you need for Christmas is a dog."

"Do you think so? What kind are you getting me?"

"A poodle. Or maybe one of those Bichon whatevers. That seems like you. Or even some really exotic breed, like a Chihuahua."

"Hmm. I've been wanting something like a Black Lab for the longest time, I'll have you know," Remus countered.

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "If you like that sort of thing. Pretty boring, though."

Remus smiled and added, "Well, they aren't known for their intelligence particularly, but they are loyal. That's what I want, a dog that's dumb, but loyal."

Sirius nipped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. "You want to be careful, there, mate. I hear they bite."

"Hmm. So it would seem. I'd better go with the Chihuahua then." Remus snickered at their silliness and held him close. They both fell silent, just enjoying the novel sensation of being in safe arms and of how natural and commonplace this rare and inexplicable moment felt.

About the time Remus decided Sirius had dozed off, he felt warm hands inside his dressing gown. They seemed to be everywhere at once, touching, caressing, exploring. Sirius looked into Remus' golden eyes, and then raised himself up on one arm, tracing little circles on his chest with one finger. "Remus, it's been thirteen years. I would imagine in all that time, there have been others." It was almost a question.

Remus shifted uncomfortably and sighed. "A couple. Nothing worth writing home about," he finally answered. "It was always for the wrong reasons, for either or both of us. And of course, once they found out about my sick mother in Scotland, it was a done deal. You?"

Sirius grew quiet and laid his head on Remus' chest. "Prison is an ugly place, Remus. I've done some things I'm not very proud of."

Remus ran his elegant fingers through Sirius' still wet hair. "Small matter. We can heal from that, too."

"I hope so. I just wanted to be honest. In case it makes a difference."

"It doesn't, Padfoot," he replied in a low, raspy voice.

Sirius raised himself up higher on his arms, kissing the smooth skin on Remus' neck. "Merlin, you even shaved," he murmured, "You always did pay attention to the details." He slid his hand slowly down Remus' chest, noting, memorizing the scars that hadn't been there thirteen years ago. He unknotted the dressing gown, let it fall open, and traced a finger through the soft hair around Remus' navel. He chuckled at his sudden intake of breath. Sirius got to his knees between Remus' legs, running a hand over each thigh, greedy for contact, deliberately moving closer and closer to the place he knew Remus wanted him to touch, but always stopping short.

Suddenly, Remus sat up and shot out a hand to stop him. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know," he said.

"You'd rather I didn't?" Sirius asked, incredulous.

"God," Remus croaked, "do you even have to ask?"

One quick glance told them both that the parts of Remus that hadn't been touched seemed hardly to be aware of that technicality. Sirius hooted with glee and answered, "Guess not, eh?" When he looked up, Remus looked as if he were about to shatter, and Sirius' expression sobered. "I want to more than anything in this world, Moony. Let someone take care of you for a change. Let _me_ take care of you. Quit trying so hard not to need this."

Remus licked his dry lips nervously and nodded. Cautiously, apprehensively, he lowered himself on the bed, propping himself back on his arms, watching. Sirius kissed him below the navel and moved down to take him into his mouth. Remus gasped, arched his back, and collapsed onto the pillow. From that moment, nothing was as important to Sirius as bringing pleasure to this man who had welcomed him home and back into his heart across an unaccountable number of miles and years, and Sirius spared him nothing that might bring delight. It ended with a violent spasm and a feral growl that seemed to echo in the darkening room. Sirius swallowed hard and laid his head on Remus' hip.

Remus inhaled raggedly and looked down at Sirius' dark head. He opened his mouth to speak, to say thank you, say something, say anything, when he heard it. Sirius was crying. Remus wasn't sure what to do. He had known this man since they were eleven years old, had gone to school with him, had lived with him, had loved him. He had seen him eat, sleep, fuck, bleed, laugh, piss, vomit, and shit. All of it. Never though, not once, had he ever known him to cry, much less sob--violent, heart-rending, terrible sobs.

He lightly placed his hand on Sirius' head and stroked his damp, curling hair until the weeping subsided. Then he whispered, "Sirius, are you all right?"

Sirius tilted up his head, and the light reflecting from the nearly full moon glistened on his wet cheeks. He looked at Remus intently for a moment, and then said with a choked voice, "This is what it feels like to love, isn't it? I'd almost forgotten." Then he crawled up to lie down next to Remus with their heads close. He scrutinized every inch of Remus' face, as if trying to memorize everything about it. Then hand outstretched, with one finger, he gently traced the line of a scar from just above his eye down to his chin.

Remus winced visibly. "It's not very pretty, is it?" he asked with an edge of bitterness in his voice.

"You're beautiful, Remus," Sirius countered, "It's not the skin. It's the bones. And the soul." Then he slid his arm behind Remus' neck and pulled him close. Remus buried his nose against Sirius' neck and let himself be held. Sirius looked towards the window and noticed the nearly round moon, just a day shy of full. He made a noise that sounded like a _tsk_ and waved his hand to close the curtain. He dragged his fingers through Remus' hair and whispered, "Poor Moony, you must be exhausted."

Remus' only reply was to kiss him on the shoulder. Sirius straightened out the rumpled bedclothes best he could and pulled the quilt up over Remus' thin shoulders. They lay still together in a tangle of limbs for the longest time, drowsy, serene, safe. Just before dropping off, Sirius thought of something that jolted him awake. Apologetically, softly, he probed, "Moony?"

Remus responded with a muffled murmur against Sirius' chest. Sirius took that as a sign to continue. "This summer, when we wrote each other, we kind of kept saying that we never stopped loving the person that we thought the other had been, right?"

Silence.

"But, for a time at least, we both suspected that the other was the one who might betray Lily and James, and that person that we thought we meant was the one we didn't love anymore. But they didn't really exist because we didn't either one of us really do it. And of course, by the time Crouch sent me to prison, I knew beyond all doubt that Peter had been the one to betray them." He paused to catch his breath before continuing, "But that's not my point."

"You do have one, then?" Remus asked, curious as to where this might be going.

"Of course I do. I always have a point. It's that we both always loved the person we thought the other was originally, and who, as it turns out, we both really were all along. Are you following this?"

He looked down at Remus, who looked back up at him with one eye open and a pained, quizzical expression.

"Well then, that means, logically, that we've really always loved each other, doesn't it?

Remus snorted, then replied, "Your logic is somewhat . . . erm, circular . . . but yes, Sirius, in spite of everything I assumed, I have always loved you."

Sirius smiled to himself in the dark and said, "Good. I'm glad you understood all that, because I wasn't sure it made any sense whatsoever." Sirius held Remus tighter and kissed him on the temple. He was almost asleep when Remus stirred.

"Padfoot?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Mmf," Sirius responded.

"Why did you haul a five-pound box of chocolates all the way from Belgium and then eat rats the whole journey?"

"I happen to find rat-hunting a very satisfying undertaking these days," Sirius answered, only half in jest.

"Tell me why you did it," Remus insisted. "I need to hear you say it."

"Because I love you, Moony."

"Good. I was hoping that was the reason." It was quiet for a few minutes, and then Remus spoke again.

"Sirius?"

"What, Remus?"

"You won't ever leave me again, will you?"

"Over my dead body, Remus. I swear it."


	22. Needs by Twix

Needs by Twix

When Remus woke the next morning, he was not at all surprised to see Sirius still fast asleep. He was lying on his stomach with his head turned towards the wall. Sirius had kicked the quilts to the foot of the bed during the night, and his pillow was on the floor. Remus supposed it would take some time for him to get used to sleeping in a regular bed.

The sun was just beginning to stream through the curtains. Remus' body was stiff and achy due to that night's full moon, so he had no intention of getting out of bed anytime soon. He was perfectly content with lying there in bed watching Sirius sleep. Remus loved how natural all this felt. After thirteen long years of not having Sirius at his side, he couldn't even begin to explain how he felt. Nevertheless, a part of him was slightly worried he'd get too used to this. This wasn't over, Remus reminded himself; Sirius was still on the run. He could only stay in Bristol for a few months – maybe only a matter of weeks – and neither of them knew what the future had in store.

Then Sirius stirred in his sleep, turning on his side and resting his arm over Remus' chest, and Remus knew that none of that mattered right now.

They lay like that for a long time in that wonderful, sleepy, drowsy atmosphere. Remus rested his hand on Sirius's arm, stroking it lightly with his fingertips. Sirius shuddered slightly and Remus stopped. But Sirius continued to shudder and tremble. He began to mutter wildly underneath his breath, but Remus was unable to understand what he said. It was just incoherent babble. Sirius started to thrash in his sleep, his body jerking and trembling violently. Remus sat straight up and put a firm hand on Sirius' chest.

"Sirius! Sirius, wake up!" Remus called out.

Sirius let out a loud gasp, then unexpectedly transformed. Padfoot was now on the bed, still asleep, whimpering and whining loudly. Remus shook the large black dog.

"Sirius! Wake up. You have to wake up," Remus exclaimed.

Padfoot continued to thrash, his paws clawing frantically at Remus' chest. Remus took his paws roughly in his own hands to stop him. "Wake up!" Remus finally shouted, "Padfoot, wake up!"

With a loud yelp, the dog's eyes flew open, and he sat up. Those bright grey eyes stared up at Remus, full of fear. Then he transformed again. Sirius now sat on the bed, breathing heavily, his hands clutched tightly in Remus'. He fell forward, collapsing into Remus' open arms.

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered hoarsely, "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Moony."

Remus held Sirius close. "Don't you dare apologize, Sirius. It's all right. Don't worry about it."

"Oh God, I'm sorry." Sirius buried his face in Remus' neck, choking back a sob. "I'm so sorry. I – I still dream about it sometimes. James and Lily, Azkaban, the Dementors, that night at Hogwarts, the Kiss --"

"Shhhh. It's okay, Sirius, you're safe with me," Remus murmured soothingly, rubbing his hands along Sirius' back. "Everything's all right."

Sirius raised his head, and their lips met in a long, fierce kiss. Sirius then laid his head against Remus' chest and let out a deep breath before speaking. "It's like a miracle. I need you, and you're here."

They didn't speak again for the longest time; they just lay there with their arms around each other. Sirius' breath became steady again, and Remus noticed that his eyes had closed. Remus carefully slipped out from under Sirius to leave the room, but as Remus made to get off the bed, Sirius reached out and pulled him back down.

"Oh, no, you don't," Sirius said into the pillow. He pushed up on his elbows and rested his body lightly on Remus'. Their faces close together, Sirius stared into Remus' warm, amber eyes and whispered, "I love you."

Remus smiled and kissed Sirius lightly on the lips. "I love you, too."

Sirius returned the kiss, pressing his mouth against Remus', then moved down to kiss his neck. Remus ran his long fingers through Sirius's hair and said a little sadly, "I really do need to get up though, Sirius. I should probably take a shower and – "

Sirius looked up. His eyes were suddenly sparkling, and a mischievous grin was on his face. "I'll help!"

Remus laughed. "If you make me late for work –"

Sirius' face fell. He moved off Remus and sat up in the bed. "You're going in to work?"

Remus sat up as well. "Just for a little while. Until about one." He got up from the bed and slipped into his dressing gown.

"Why can't you just stay home today?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Sirius, I work for a living. Remember, I'm already taking some time off right before the holidays to go visit my mum in Scotland. Starting tomorrow."

"Then just don't go into work. What's the big deal of just missing the one more day?" Sirius asked.

Remus frowned. "This isn't like school, Sirius. You can't just skive off work. Besides, they were very understanding about giving me that time off just before the holidays. Hope my mum is feeling better, insisted I take extra days, and all of that. They're very decent people."

"Then send them an owl or something," Sirius said, "Tell them you found this stray dog on the beach and –"

"Sirius, they're Muggles," Remus said patiently.

"Oh." Sirius frowned again. "I really wanted to spend the day with you, Moony."

"I'm really sorry. It's a short day, though," Remus assured him. "Only until one or so." He turned to walk into the hallway. "I'm using the bedroom at the end of the hallway. You can find something to wear in the wardrobe. It'll be a little big, of course, but at least it's better than those prison robes. I'm going to make some tea."

Sirius didn't reply. He grumpily made his way down the hallway to find something to wear in Remus' room. When he walked into the kitchen five minutes later, Remus was bustling about pleasantly, making tea. He set a pile of biscuits on the table, and as he crossed Sirius as he walked through the room, he slipped his arm around his waist and kissed his temple. Looking at Sirius, he said, "What in Merlin's name is wrong, Sirius?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Sirius sighed heavily and moved to sit down at the table. He took a biscuit and began to munch on it.

"Do you want anything else to eat?" Remus asked. "You know I'm not one for big breakfasts. Especially today."

Sirius shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

Remus frowned, and then sat down at the table. He took a sip from his scalding tea, and then began to blow on it. Sirius stared moodily into his steaming cup of tea. Remus kicked him lightly underneath the table, and said with a grin, "You're pouting, you know." Sirius didn't reply, and Remus let out a small sigh. "Padfoot, I really don't see what the big deal is. It's just for about three hours today, and then I'll be on holiday until after Christmas, so –"

Sirius suddenly stood up from the table. "I think I'm going to go see how Buckbeak's doing." And with that, he walked across the kitchen and out the back door.

"Erm, all right then," Remus said uncertainly as Sirius left, then returned to his cup of tea, his brow furrowed in worry and concern.

When Remus returned from work at a little after one that afternoon, he found the house empty. As he walked down the short hallway, he checked all the rooms, but Sirius was nowhere. Feeling extremely worried, Remus made his way into the kitchen as quickly as he possibly could with his sore muscles and slight limp. There, on the kitchen table, was a note. It was a small one, the paper ripped from the corner of the_ Daily Prophet_. Sirius had scribbled a short, terse message: _Went out, should be back soon. – Sirius_

Remus frowned at the note. He couldn't help but be a little disturbed by Sirius' behaviour. Surely, he could understand why Remus couldn't stay home from work. Sirius was still acting like a schoolboy on a lark, instead of like a grown man. Remus knew he shouldn't be surprised. Sirius had completely missed out on most of his own adult life. It must be very disorienting for him, but it obviously wasn't going to be a tea party for Remus to deal with either.

Remus then turned around in the kitchen, stopped to collect his cane by the door, and left the cottage. He walked slowly over to the shed where Sirius had hidden Buckbeak, but he wasn't there either. Making his way around the back of the house and down the path, Remus walked out onto the beach.

Although the sun was shining brightly, a stiff breeze had blown up and chilled the air, making it almost unbearably cold. Remus looked up and down the coast, squinting into the distance for any sign of Sirius. His eye caught a cluster of rocks some ways away from the cottage. Remus remembered that private, hidden section well, and he began to walk in that direction of the beach. He walked slowly, gingerly putting his weight on his cane. Shivering from the cold, Remus buried his chin deeper into the threadbare scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

When he approached the area of large rocks, he saw Padfoot hiding several feet away from him. At the sight of Remus, he loped out from behind it and sat down on a low, flat rock. He then transformed, and Sirius looked up at Remus. He still looked a little grumpy and put out, but was pleased to see Remus nonetheless.

Remus sat down next to him, propping his cane up against the rock. He wrapped his arm around Sirius' neck and pulled their heads close together. "I'll have you know," Remus said softly, "that I had a dreadfully boring time at work today."

Sirius finally grinned, then kissed Remus' face, slipping his arm around his waist. "Well, I'm glad to hear it."

"What did you do today?" Remus asked.

"Nothing, really," Sirius replied glumly. "Just spent some time with Buckbeak, and I've been out here."

That area of beach hidden in the rocks was sheltered from the wind and considerably warmer, but it still was very cold, and Sirius gave a slight shiver.

"You must be freezing," Remus remarked. Sirius was only wearing a thin shirt and trousers, so Remus took his scarf off and wrapped it around Sirius' neck. Sirius murmured his thanks and stared forward out to the sea. They didn't speak for a long time, then Remus asked quietly, "Padfoot, are you okay?"

Sirius nodded his head automatically. Then he glanced up at Remus, and a moment later, shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," Sirius said, shrugging, which, Remus knew, meant that he did.

"Let's talk while walking back to the house," Remus offered. "It's getting awfully cold, and you don't have a coat. I'll have to pick one up at Oxfam for you."

"All right." So they both stood up and began walking back up to the cottage. Sirius kept his arm around Remus as they walked, staring intently at his feet. "I guess I'm just tired of it all. Just . . . everything." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "It's been almost two damned years since I escaped, and ever since, I've constantly been in hiding and on the run. And, Moony, I have this horrible feeling I'll be doing that for the rest of my life."

Remus didn't reply. He wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't think the truth will ever be uncovered." Sirius exhaled loudly.

"Sirius, you shouldn't think like that," Remus said, "We have no idea what will happen –"

"Exactly! I could be dead in a year's time, still hiding from the Ministry or maybe–"

"Don't say that, Sirius," Remus cut in sharply, now frowning. "I can't bear to hear you say that."

There was a moment's silence as they walked up the path to the cottage and went inside. Remus stripped off his coat and put his cane next to the door. Sirius went into the sitting room and threw himself down on the settee, looking defeated. "I'm sorry, Moony," he said then. "I don't mean to be so moody and ill-tempered."

"Padfoot," Remus said, sitting next to him on the settee. "you have every right in the world to be ill-tempered. And you've always been moody." He was pleased when Sirius attempted a little half-smile.

"But I feel as if I'm ruining our time together," he said, leaning back into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

Remus reached over to run his fingers in Sirius's hair. "You've haven't even been here twenty-four hours, so you're not ruining anything. Just that you're here at all, Padfoot, makes it perfect. I can't tell you happy that makes me."

Sirius nodded and took Remus' hand in his, lacing their fingers. "Thank you so much for staying here in Bristol. For wanting--"

Remus leaned forward to kiss Sirius on the mouth. "I do want it. More than anything, Sirius. It's all I've ever wanted."

For the first time that day, Sirius smiled a genuine smile. Remus started to smile back, but the smile turned into a huge yawn, and he covered his mouth. "Sorry. I'm a little tired, I guess."

"Merlin's beard, Moony, it's the full moon tonight, and here I've been such a selfish bastard all day. I'm sorry." Sirius' face looked stricken with guilt.

Remus smothered another yawn with his hand and smiled. "Well, you can make it up to me by fetching me a cup of tea. I could really use one right now," he put in. Then he looked up a little sheepishly and added, "If you don't mind, that is."

Sirius grinned widely. "Fetching is my specialty, old bean. I will be at your very beck and call all night, guaranteed. You can count on me."

The tension Remus hadn't even known he was carrying dissolved at Sirius' words. "I know, Sirius. And it means everything."

Sirius leaned over and kissed him, then reached down and pulled Remus' legs up onto the settee. "Rest, you. I'll make you a nice hot cuppa." Then Sirius strode into the kitchen to make the tea. He felt horrible about how the day had gone so far, and he was determined to make it up to Remus. When he returned with the tea, however, Remus had fallen asleep. Sirius set the cup on the tea table and covered Remus with the rug that was draped over the back of the back of the settee. As he tucked it in around him, he whispered, "Your turn, love. You need me now, Remus, and I'm here."


	23. Moonlight and Memories by Twix

Moonlight and Memories by Twix

"Moony. Hey, Moony."

Remus woke with a start. He was lying on the sofa in the living room. It was dark outside, and the room was dimly lit by the Christmas lights strung along the walls. Sirius stood over him, shaking his arm slightly. He was holding a smoking goblet in his hand and said gently, "Sorry to wake you up, mate, but it's getting late, and you need to take your potion." He sat on the edge of the sofa next to Remus and offered him the goblet.

Remus sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Thanks. How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours," Sirius replied.

"Wow. Sorry about that," Remus said, taking the goblet from Sirius. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep after leaving you alone all day."

Sirius smiled. "Don't worry about it, Moony. I was being a prat. You've got enough to be getting on with tonight."

Remus smiled wryly, and then sniffed at the potion and shuddered. "Cheers," he said glumly and drank the potion as quickly as he could. When he had swallowed the last bit, a shiver seemed to travel through his whole body. His hands shook violently and the empty goblet slipped, clattering to the floor.

"Are you all right?" Sirius took Remus' hands and rubbed his fingers between his hands.

"Yes," Remus sighed. "That's just from the potion."

Sirius looked in his eyes, still moving Remus' fingers back and forth in his hands. "I don't know how you do it, Moony. Having to put up with all this each month. I admire you for not having lost it years ago."

With a slightly twisted smile, Remus replied, "I'd hardly call it admirable."

Sirius then picked up the goblet and stood up. Kissing Remus' forehead, he said, "Well, whatever it is, I sure don't have it, and I would have cracked a long time ago."

Pushing against the arms of the sofa, Remus slowly stood up. He noticed how Sirius kept a steady hand against his back. In a way, he liked all this attention and care from Sirius, who was trying to make Remus as comfortable as possible. Remus knew he was trying to make up for thirteen years worth of full moons he felt he had missed, and he appreciated it more than he could ever say. Sirius handed Remus his cane, and he took a moment to rest his weight on it before beginning to walk across the living room.

Remus took his time walking from the living room to the front bedroom. Sirius walked behind him with his hand gently resting on his arm and his eyes casting worried glances. Then, for a moment, Sirius doubled back to put the empty goblet in the kitchen. But as he stepped out of the hallway, another shudder overcame Remus' body. He dropped his cane and held his arm to his chest, trying to stop the shaking. With a low gasp, he leaned against the wall, attempting to catch his breath.

Hearing all this, Sirius ran back into the hallway. He rushed up to him and put his hands firmly on Remus' arms. Remus cursed underneath his breath, then unexpectedly burst out, "Goddammit, I'm so sick of this!"

Sirius couldn't reply. He was shocked into silence by Remus' outburst. Sirius knew Remus hated his condition--how could he not--but he rarely spoke about it, much less in this particular way. With a rush of emotion, Sirius put his arms around Remus' shoulders, and Remus let himself be held.

When they finally moved, Sirius ushered Remus into the front bedroom, ignoring the cane still on the hallway floor. Remus sat on the edge of the bed and began to unbutton his shirt. Remus was numbly staring ahead, his eyes not focused on anything in particular. The sight of him almost made Sirius cry. He had never seen Remus look so empty and helpless before. Sirius sat next to him to help him undress. They were silent in the dark room, lit only by the moon, which was just minutes from full.

Remus then set his clothes on a chair in the corner of the room. He quietly moved to the bed and lay down and began to wait. Sirius lay on the bed next to Remus and once again took him in his arms. Remus hungrily pressed against Sirius' body as they held each other close. Sirius leaned his head up to look at Remus; their lips brushed, and Remus kissed him fiercely. Sirius returned the kiss, then whispered against his face, "I won't leave you, Moony. I promise."

Remus' eyes suddenly filled with tears, and he opened his mouth to speak. But then, there in Sirius's arms, he began to transform. Remus let out a slight moan, and his grasp on Sirius tightened. His face was beginning to lengthen, his back was hunching, and hair was growing on his face and body. In the absence of the screaming and howling he remembered, Sirius could actually hear Remus' bones cracking and snapping as they transformed. It was awful, but he didn't let go. Remus' arms and legs began to change, his hands and feet curling into paws. Still, Sirius held him.

As Remus changed in his arms, Sirius followed suit. When Padfoot appeared, he whimpered softly at the sight of the quivering wolf next to him on the bed. Moony raised his head and studied the large dog. The wolf's mind was reeling; these sights and smells were unusual, but . . . there was something incredibly familiar about it all. Trembling with excitement, Padfoot lunged forward and began to lick the wolf's face. Instinctively, the wolf reared back and growled loudly, baring his teeth. Padfoot immediately pressed his enormous paws against the wolf, forcing him onto his back in submission. The wolf's intense amber eyes locked with the dog's large, grey ones, and instantly, all the sights and smells and memories that Moony had missed over the years came back to him. With a wide, toothy grin, Padfoot licked Moony's face again and began to nuzzle his neck. He rolled off the wolf, and Moony buried his face in Padfoot's thick, dark fur.

It went on like this for several minutes: Moony and Padfoot playing and licking and nuzzling and remembering. Then the dog sensed the utter exhaustion and fatigue in the wolf. They settled against each other on the bed, their heads resting on each other's haunches in a perfect circle. The dog and the wolf quickly dropped into a drowsy, peaceful lull, and eventually, they fell asleep there on the bed, bathed in the calm, pale moonlight.


	24. Cosseting by Mum to You

Cosseting by Mum-to-You

When Remus opened his eyes in the morning, the winter sun was as high in the sky as it ever got and streaming through the unshuttered window. He extracted his face from the pillow, then he blinked a few times and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Tentatively, he stretched his arms and legs, expecting the pain and stiffness that always followed his transformations. "_Hmm_," he thought to himself, "_it's not too bad this time. Not bad at all._" His next thought was to reach across the bed for Sirius. It hadn't quite been two days since he'd arrived, but Remus was already growing used to having him here. Sirius, however, wasn't lying next to him. He rose up on his elbows, still groggy, and looked around the room.

"Hey, Beautiful," Sirius' voice called out. Remus rolled over. Sirius was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, legs crossed, holding a tea mug.

"_Only Sirius_," Remus thought, "_could wear my old pyjama trousers with the cuffs rolled up and manage to look elegant_." He blushed furiously and grinned up at Sirius sheepishly. "Hardly that, I think. And how long have you been standing there anyway?"

Sirius grinned back. "Just got out of the shower, so not as long as I'd like, but long enough to wax poetic." He cleared his throat. "Remus John Lupin, when the morning sun shines on your hair, it lights up like a halo. You're a friggin' angel, aren't you?"

"Halo, my arse," Remus laughed, "it's grey hair, you big git." Remus sat up gingerly and rubbed his face. Sirius walked over and handed him the mug, which he accepted gratefully. Then Sirius leaned down, kissed him on the head, and flopped softly onto the bed next to him. Remus held the steaming cup in both hands and sniffed curiously. Then he looked at Sirius questioningly.

"Cinnamon chai. It's nearly Christmas, Moony. Live a little."

Remus raised an eyebrow and took a hesitant sip. He nodded appreciatively, then took a deeper draught and sighed. "This is good," he murmured. Then he looked over at Sirius with a surprised look. "You're pretty amazing, you know?"

Sirius grinned. "Too true, Moony, too true." Then he reached over and stroked Remus' bare back with a warm hand. "How are you feeling?"

Remus took another sip of tea and answered, nodding, "Not bad really. A little stiff, but not too sore this time." He looked up at Sirius, a little embarrassed, and then he put his head on Sirius' shoulder. "It's because you were with me, you know."

"I'm glad, Remus. It's good to be useful to someone again. Even better that the someone is you." Sirius sat there on the bed with his arm around Remus' thin shoulders, and they chatted while Remus sipped his tea.

"How long have you been up?"

"Awhile now. I fed Bucky before it got too light out."

"That's good. He probably needs some exercise."

"Yep. He was getting restless."

Sirius nuzzled Remus' ear while Remus took another drink of his tea and sighed.

"Say, Sirius. I wonder whom Harry'll ask to the Yule Ball. Did he say?"

"He didn't say whether he fancied someone in particular, if that's what you mean."

Remus was silent for a moment, then smiled to himself as he asked, "Do you think Hermione?"

Sirius exhaled noisily and gave it some thought. "Hmm. I rather doubt it, you know. I think that particular storm lies in a different direction. More towards Ron, I'd say."

"_Harry?_" Remus asked, making a face. "Oh, no, I don't think so, Padfoot."

"No, you silly poof, Hermione."

With a surprised smile, Remus shook his head and looked up at him. "How could you tell? I spent the whole year with them and didn't notice a thing."

Sirius laughed. "Now why doesn't that surprise me, Professor?"

They sat together in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Remus thought of something. "It's been a long time since you've had a real Christmas Dinner, hasn't it? Do you think a goose?"

"For just the two of us? Heavens, no. Chicken will be fine."

"Hardly seems festive, though."

"Anything besides roast rat will be plenty festive to me, Moony."

"Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we? Plum pudding?"

"Mmm. Definitely. Can't have Christmas without that. You'd best leave the Sickle for me, though. Can't have you swallowing something like that."

Sirius scooted back on the bed, then he placed both hands on Remus' shoulders and massaged them gently. Remus rolled his head back and forth and closed his eyes before speaking. "Merlin, that feels good."

"Are you hungry? I can make you some toast."

"Not especially. I'll just have some of those chocolate biscuits from tea yesterday."

"For breakfast? Remus, that's not healthy!"

Remus snickered. "All right, toast then."

"That's better."

"And biscuits for elevenses."

Sirius just sighed. He reached over and took the empty cup from him, then leaned over to kiss him.

"Oh, no fair, Padfoot. You've cleaned your teeth!"

"Shut your gob, Moony."

"I'm trying to," Remus giggled, "but your tongue keeps getting in the way."

"Don't be impertinent."

"Ooh, that's a very big word, Sirius."

"Don't be condescending either."

After another lingering kiss, Remus threw off the quilt and made to stand up.

"Moony, just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Remus looked over at him, incredulous. He wasn't sure what to reply. "Erm, getting dressed?" he asked.

"And just why?"

"Well, I hope you don't expect me to come to breakfast with my John Thomas hanging out all over the place!"

Sirius snorted. "All over the place? Really, Remus, it's not _that_ big."

"Oh, nice. Thanks awfully for pointing that out," Remus snickered as he put his feet on the floor.

"Let me bring something to you here. Biscuits, if you like. Lie back down and rest."

"I just woke up, Sirius. I don't need to rest." Remus stood up, wobbled a bit, and put his hand on the bed to steady himself. Sirius was up like a shot and over the bed. He grabbed both of Remus' arms to support him.

"Sirius! I'm fine, for Merlin's sake."

Sirius eyed him worriedly and fetched the cane that was leaning against the wardrobe. Remus barely had time to shift his weight onto the cane when Sirius returned to his side carrying his clothes. He ignored Remus' exasperated protests and gathered up his jumper to slide it over his head.

"Padfoot, I'm fine. Better than last night. You don't have to—" the rest of his protest was muffled in wool, and he resigned himself to Sirius' help with the jumper.

When Sirius picked up his underpants, however, Remus had had enough. He snatched them out his hand and said, "Dammit, Sirius. I absolutely do _not _need help putting my pants on!"

He sat on the bed and slipped into his pants and trousers, with Sirius trying to help at every turn. Remus kept slapping his hand away playfully. "You don't need to cosset me, Sirius."

_"Cosset? _Merlin, Moony, where do you come up with words like that?"

"_Cosset,_ you illiterate barbarian, happens to be a perfectly acceptable Anglo-Norman transitive verb, probably dating from at least 1570."

Sirius looked at him blankly. "You don't say. Why, that's just so _fascinating_."

"And, for your information, it's also probably a derivation of the Old English word for _kiss."_

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Really? Now that _is_ interesting."

"As in _kiss my arse_."

Sirius threw him a baleful look. "You've hurt me now, Remus. I'm deeply wounded, and I shan't recover for days."

They grinned at each other. That was the best part, they both knew that—the silliness. The sex was good. Hell, the sex was as great as it had always been. But it was the everyday conversation, the ease of being around each other, the sense of companionship in an otherwise hostile world that they had missed the most.

Sirius reached out and placed his hand on Remus' cheek. "Let's get you some breakfast, Sleeping Beauty."

Remus reached up and put his hand over Sirius'. "Padfoot, I'm sorry about my temper last night. I don't know what came over me."

This comment earned Remus a little half smile from Sirius. "Maybe the fact that you're approaching the--what would it be by now--the 400th time you've made that little shift, it's starting to wear on you, eh?"

Remus looked down at his bare feet. "Something like that. I should've known you'd understand."

Sirius shook his head. "No, I won't pretend to understand lycanthropy, Moony. That would be impertinent and condescending, wouldn't it?" He was glad when he saw Remus smile a little.

They looked at each other for a moment, then Remus said, "But you do understand what it's like to be angry about something that's happened to you that's unfair and that you can't do anything about. That one, you have a handle on."

Tears began to form on Sirius' eyelashes, but he had no intention of crying like a baby twice in as many days. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "Breakfast, you. Then maybe a walk down to the beach?"

Remus nodded, but added, "I might not be up to playing fetch just now, Paddy."

Sirius pulled Remus into his arms. "No matter. Stupid game anyway. Throw the stick, bring it back. Throw the stick again, bring it back again. What's the point, really?"

Remus giggled into Sirius' shoulder.

"And after that, I'm putting you back to bed, and no arguments on that," Sirius stated, "and stop giggling, by the way. That's twice now, and it's very unlike you."

At that, Remus buried his face against Sirius' neck, laughing, clinging to him. When he spoke though, his words were serious. "I need you desperately, Sirius. I realize how very much now.We need each other, I think."

Sirius held him tightly. "I know, love. I know," he whispered, and then he lifted Remus' face to his and kissed him very, very thoroughly. "When I get you back in bed later, I'm going to cosset you rather a lot. All over. Best be prepared for that."

Remus tried to look very serious and replied, "That, I think I can be, erm, _up_ for," but he dissolved into giggles again. Sirius just rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Sirius?" Remus murmured into his shoulder, "May I cosset you back?"

"I'd be extremely disappointed if you didn't, Remus."

"I probably won't behave much like an angel, though."

Sirius giggled and said, "Beautiful."


	25. Christmas Goose by Mum to You

Christmas Goose by Mum-to-You

"Aw, c'mon, Moony. Get up!" Sirius bounced onto the bed and shook Remus roughly. "Now!"

Remus stuck his head under his pillow and groaned, "Go away, Sirius."

"It's Christmas, Moony! Hurry and get up! Pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease!" he coaxed. Sirius bounced up and down on the bed, jostling him. Remus said a very bad word and didn't budge.

This decidedly unsatisfactory response forced Sirius to employ more drastic measures. He climbed on top of Remus and tried to pull the pillow off his head. "C'mon, Moony!" he pleaded. Remus clamped his hands over the pillow, but Sirius was too quick. He grabbed the pillow and started thumping Remus about the head with it.

"Dammit, Sirius, cut it out!" Remus growled. After repeated bludgeoning, though, Remus gave in. "All right, all right. I'm up." Sirius paused with the pillow in midair, ready to resume pommeling. Remus rolled over onto his back to face him and rubbed his face with hands.

Sirius hugged the pillow to himself and exclaimed gleefully, "Moony, it's Christmas!"

"Really? Today?" Remus covered his mouth to stifle a huge yawn. "Are you quite sure?" He tried to maintain a disgruntled look, but he could feel the corners of his mouth beginning to twitch.

"Remus, don't be such a gob-shite about it. It's my first Christmas in thirteen years, and you're just sleeping it away!" Sirius whacked him with the pillow one more time for good measure.

Remus jerked the pillow out of Sirius' hands and stuffed it back under his head. He squinted over at the alarm clock on the dresser and snorted. "Sirius, it's six-thirty in the morning!" he admonished.

Sirius nodded. "See, I told you. You're missing everything!"

Remus looked up into Sirius' excited face and couldn't help but smile. As Sirius clambered off him, though, Remus thought to himself, _"But still—"_ He grabbed the pillow out from behind his head and whacked Sirius across the back soundly.

Sirius shot around with a surprised look and then snatched up the other pillow and thumped Remus back. What followed was an all-out, to-the-death pillow fight, the likes of which had not been seen since the Great Marauder Bed Linen War of some twenty years before.

The two men happily pounded each other senseless, but in the end, Sirius finally wrestled Remus to the ground. He stretched out on top of him and pinned his arms to the floor above his head. Then he looked down into Remus' amber eyes. With a rare twinkle in his own grey ones, Sirius said, "Say it."

Remus flushed and looked defiant. "I don't remember it," he challenged.

"Codswallop. You wrote it."

"Sirius, this is ridiculous. Let me up. You win."

"Not until you say it."

"I don't remember it, I tell you!"

"Then I'll refresh your memory. Repeat after me: _"I, Remus John Lupin, do solemnly profess—"_

"Sirius, this is silly—"

Sirius leaned into Remus with his whole weight. "Say it!"

Remus rolled his eyes in vexation before capitulating in a bored monotone, _"I, Remus John Lupin, do solemnly profess—"_

"—_that Sirius Black reigns supreme in all things—"_ Sirius bent down and licked Remus on the neck.

Remus howled with laughter and recited, _"—that Sirius Black reigns supreme in all things, and that I am but a mere lowly serf by comparison. I bow humbly before his prowess and wish only to bask in the dazzling brilliance of his amazing wonderfulness, thereby gaining some undeserved and unearned reflected glory just by being in his sublime presence._ There. Happy?"

"Finish it."

"Oh, Merlin, Padfoot," Remus sighed.

"Finish it, Moony."

"Oh, all right, you git. _I also think he's really cute, and I want to snog his face off_."

"Yesss!" Then Sirius leaned down so that Remus could suit the actions to the words.

After several minutes, the snogging stopped. Remus looked up at Sirius with a smile and said, "Happy Christmas, Padfoot."

Sirius looked back down at him. A maniacal look crept into his eyes, and he grinned widely and hissed, "Presents!" Then he jumped up, grabbed Remus by the hand, and pulled him up.

"Wait, Sirius. It's chilly. I need to get my dressing gown and slippers," Remus insisted.

Sirius groaned and watched impatiently at the door while Remus took simply ages to get ready. Any seemingly deliberate slowness on his part was no doubt purely accidental. Sirius hopped up and down on one bare foot and then the other in exasperation. Finally, he could stand it no more. "Remus, come on!" He grabbed him by the hand again and dragged him down the short hallway. Abruptly, he turned around and stopped Remus from entering the sitting room, demanding, "Close your eyes."

Remus sighed, but smilingly obliged.

"Don't peek."

"I won't peek."

"You're peeking. I can see your eyes."

"I am not peeking, you prat!"

Sirius guided Remus into the room and said, "Okay, you can open them."

Remus opened his eyes, and his mouth gaped in utter astonishment. He was looking at what had to be the most pathetic Christmas tree he had ever seen in his entire life. "Isn't it beautiful?" Sirius asked.

Remus pondered the scraggly bit of tree, which may or may not have been an actual evergreen. His eyes roved over the sparse branches, from the makeshift colored ribbons, most of which were orange, to the frayed red, white, and blue bunting that had clearly been salvaged from a recent bank holiday, to the lumpy star on the top, which had very recently been handmade out of a scrap of tinfoil. Then he looked down into Sirius' excited face and replied, "I'm . . . speechless, Padfoot." He was having a hard time keeping himself from laughing aloud.

Remus was also acutely aware that Sirius knew perfectly well how ambiguous that statement was, and he hastened to cover with a white lie. "It's a lovely tree, Sirius. I can tell you worked hard on this."

Sirius barked with laughter. "Liar," he said, "You always were a terrible liar, Remus. You know very well that you are gazing upon the ugliest tree in entire history of Christmas."

Remus blushed and looked away. "Well, the decorations are, erm, eclectic."

There was another bark. "Remus, it's absolutely spuggly, but don't you see? It's the perfect tree for this Christmas."

Remus looked at tree, back at Sirius, then back at the tree. "Perfect? How exactly?"

"The symbolism, Mr. Moony, the rich, textured symbolism. It's just like us, innit? It looks like bloody hell, but it's the best we've got for right now, and it's a damn sight better than anything we've had in a long time. But it's a start, Remus. It's a start."

Tears sprang up in Remus' eyes and for a moment, he couldn't speak. He cleared his throat and murmured, "I see what you mean, Sirius," but Sirius wasn't listening. He was on all fours under the tree.

Remus watched Sirius as he crawled around on the floor pawing through the few packages under the tree, and he was looking with renewed understanding. He often worried that Sirius' tendency to whistle past graveyards was leading him to ignore the trouble they were facing, as if it might somehow go away. Either that or he sank into deep, hopeless despondencies from which he could barely be reached. But Remus knew for certain now that, deep down, Sirius understood exactly what was at stake and was ready to deal with it. With him. Knowing this gave Remus a lighter heart. They really were of the same mind on all the important things, just as they had always been. All of a sudden, Remus looked at the sad, garish little tree through different eyes. "Sirius," he declared, "it's a perfectly beautiful tree."

Sirius just grinned and handed him a lumpy, squashy package.

Remus took the package and sat down on the floor in front of the hearth. Sirius plopped down in front of him, cross-legged, with their knees touching. Remus reached out, patted Sirius on his bare foot, and exclaimed, "Sirius, you're freezing!" He grabbed his wand off the tea table and waved it at the fireplace, saying, _"Incendio!" _At once, there was a roaring fire.

Then Remus looked at him sternly and said, "Sirius, you already got me the chocolates."

Sirius just waved away his concern and retorted, "That was just a late St. Nicholas Day gift. Besides, you've eaten them all, so they don't count. Open it!"

Remus carefully lifted each piece of Spello-tape and painstakingly opened the package, while Sirius fidgeted and cast him impatient looks. When he finally got the gift open, it proved to be a Gryffindor scarf. "For old time's sake," Sirius explained.

Remus was delighted and promptly put the scarf around his neck. Then he reached over and handed a gift to Sirius. "It's not much, but—"

"Shut up, Moony! It's a present!" Sirius was shaking with excitement as he tore the present open. Then he looked up with a blank expression. "Remus, this is pants."

Remus' face fell. "You don't like it?"

"Literally. I mean, it's underpants."

"Well, yes. You need them, Sirius. Mine rather fall off you."

"You don't like it when my underpants fall off?"

Remus blinked. "I confess I do rather, but must it always be mine that fall off you?"

Sirius grinned, "Remus, it's my first Christmas present in thirteen years, and it's from you, and it's _underpants_. I can't begin to tell you how special that is to me."

Remus' eyes narrowed. "It's a very practical gift, Sirius."

"And I thank you. I'll treasure them always."

"Shut up, Sirius."

Sirius leaned over and kissed him. Then he handed Remus a second gift. There was another long, agonizing wait for him to open it, and Sirius' fingers were itching to rip the shiny paper off the box. Eventually, Remus exclaimed over the bottle of Benedictine he was holding up. "You remembered!" Remus loved the sweet, fruity, herbal liqueur, especially mixed with brandy, but he rarely splurged on such indulgences. "Thank you, Padfoot. Especially for remembering."

"You are the only person I know who drinks that crap, Remus. I was sitting in bar in Rouen this past fall, and someone at the next table ordered a B&B, and all of a sudden, I remembered," he elaborated. "It seems to go that way. Something triggers the smallest memory, and suddenly, it all comes flooding back."

Remus brushed Sirius' hair back out of his eyes and kissed him. Then he reached under the tree and pulled out a rather large, flat box. "This is yours, too. Nicer than pants, but still very practical, I fear."

Sirius had it torn open in a heartbeat. The gift proved to be new robes—simply cut, but elegant, and charcoal gray. "Basic black seemed too gloomy, and thought this would look rather well on you," Remus explained.

"I shall spend the rest of my life in hiding, but in secret sartorial splendor, eh?"

"Well, I'll be there to admire it, anyway." Remus grinned at him.

"What do you want me to model first, Moony? The robes or the pants?"

Remus laughed and shook his head. "Neither, you prat. Let's have breakfast first." As Remus got up, he noticed something under the tree. "Another gift? Sirius, good grief."

Sirius looked puzzled. "For me?"

Remus shook his head in bewilderment. "Not from me. What in the world?"

It was for Sirius, from Harry. "I sent him a rather useful penknife, but I didn't expect him to—"

"Merlin's beard," he exclaimed as he tore off the wrappings, "would you look at this?" It was a Gryffindor scarf. Sirius immediately wound it around his neck and looked up at Remus, whose own scarf was still around his neck. They grinned at each other like idiots.

Then Sirius' stomach growled rather loudly, and he said, "We've currant scones from the bake shop. There's so much cooking to do today, I didn't feature on a big breakfast."

"What a commendable housekeeper you've turned out to be, dear," Remus said in a faintly mocking tone.

"Shut up, Moony."

The rest of the day was spent in the kitchen. Remus had insisted on a goose, despite all Sirius' protests. Remus got irritated with Sirius' haphazard messes and his interminable verses of "Deck the Halls with Heads of House-Elves," and Sirius became absolutely peeved at Remus' insistence upon measuring everything. Between them, however, they managed a credible Christmas dinner without inflicting bodily harm on one another. In fact, they had rather an enjoyable day.

The plum pudding, being beyond their combined culinary skills, had been purchased, but the hard sauce they'd made was unmitigated disaster. The pudding had to be eaten without it, but Remus did manage to ignite quite a lot of brandy over it, which made the presentation spectacular. The silver Sickle turned up in Remus' pudding after all, but he adroitly managed to spit it out and hand it to Sirius with a superior smile.

Dumbledore had sent crackers, which delighted Sirius no end. His had a joke wand inscribed with the letters WWW on one end, and he snorted with laughter when it went all limp and saggy whenever he waved it in the air. They made several crude, but hilarious, jokes about the wand's erectile dysfunction, and Sirius figured Dumbledore had found out about his new wand and was taking the mickey out of him. There was also a pink baby bonnet with lace and ruffles, which Sirius immediately clapped onto his head, leaving the ribbons hanging.

Remus' contained a long barrister's periwig, which he absolutely refused to put on in spite of all Sirius' cajoling and chasing him around the house. He insisted emphatically that he had quite enough grey hair as it was, thank you very much. Better was the new Wizard chess set. Remus was an excellent chess player, and Sirius resigned himself to endless games in which his arse would be soundly beaten.

That evening, they lay together on the settee in front of a roaring fire, with Remus sprawled comfortably against Sirius, a glass of Benedictine and Brandy in one hand. Sirius sipped a gin and tonic and played with the fringe on Remus' scarf. For a while they didn't speak. Instead, they took turns exhaling little sighs of contentment.

Then Sirius spoke, "Next year, let's plan on Harry's spending the hols with us."

Remus nodded. "That would be nice." Then he looked up at Sirius, yanked on the end of his bonnet ribbons, and smiled. "This is just the first of a lifetime of happy Christmases, isn't it Padfoot?"

Sirius shivered. He felt as if a goose were walking over his grave. His face clouded over, but he forced a smile. He kissed Remus on the top of his head and answered, "If they're all like this one, love, I don't want to miss any of them." He chuckled and added, "Maybe we'll have a whole houseful of people of next year. That would be grand."

Sirius knew it would be a long way to next Christmas. So very much could happen in a year's time. Still, it was fun to dream, and it made Remus happy. It made him happy, too, now he thought about it. That was more than enough for this Christmas. They would just take the rest of them one year at a time.


	26. Happy Birthday, Moony March 10 by Mum to

"Make a wish, Moony."

"You know what I'm going to wish for, so what's the point?"

Sirius' excited face fell a little, and he set the double-layer chocolate cake he'd just finished frosting on the kitchen table. "Moony," he reminded him, "we've been round and round about it. I have to go." Remus grew quiet and didn't answer.

"You do agree that I have to go?" Sirius asked. Remus still didn't answer.

"Oh, c'mon, Moony. Don't make it harder than it has to be. Besides, sulking is my specialty. You're really not very good at it."

Remus mouth twitched at the corners, but when he remembered all the running to and fro, the making plans and lists, and Sirius' recently elevated mood, he frowned again. "You're glad to be going, though. Aren't you?"

Sirius jerked his head up in surprise, momentarily forgetting the burning match between his fingers. "Ouch! Damn and blast!" he exclaimed, dropping the match and sticking both fingers in his mouth. "Moony, how can you say such a thing?"

Remus just whispered, "Because it's true, isn't it?"

Sirius watched the match gutter out on the table, leaving a scorch mark on the pale wood. He sighed and answered, "Yes, it is."

Remus resumed his uncomfortable silence, and Sirius paced back and forth across the kitchen. "Don't look like that, Moony. I can't stand it. You know I don't like leaving you here, for Merlin's sake. I just need to get up off my arse and _do something."_

When he still refused to speak, Sirius lifted his chin and forced Remus to look at him. "The offer to come with me still stands, you know. You've given notice at the shop already." Something like a flicker of interest lit up in Remus' eyes, but it just as quickly died. He shook his head.

"It's that important that you finish the two weeks?" Sirius asked.

"It would be the decent thing to do, but it's not that so much," Remus explained. "I know perfectly well that you'll be safer without a werewolf along for the ride. It just wouldn't work, and I know that."

"What, then?"

Remus sighed, exasperated with himself. "Oh, Padfoot, I'm just being selfish, I guess. I'm sorry."

Sirius smiled broadly. "Well, it is your birthday, after all. You're entitled." With that, he struck another match and lit the candle that was perched crookedly on top of the chocolate frosting. "Make a wish, Remus."

Remus looked at Sirius for a moment, and finally he grinned and leaned over to blow out the candle.

"What'd you wish for, Moony?"

"I can't tell you that, or it won't come true, you big git," Remus teased.

"Fine. Be that way."

"Fine. I will."

"I hope you wished to be less irritating in the coming the year, as a sign of your increasing maturity."

"Very witty, Padfoot."

They shared Remus' birthday cake in a companionable silence, and then Sirius asked, "Do you really think we're going about this the right way?"

Remus nodded. "I do. I don't like it, but I think it's the best way. You and Bucky head north. If what we think Voldemort is up to is correct, Harry needs you more than I do." Remus looked up and added, "Which is saying something, you know. Just promise me you'll be careful."

Sirius grinned. "I'm always careful. I just have a different definition of careful than you do."

"That, my love, is what worries me most."

"Well," Sirius continued. "you'll be too damned busy to worry overmuch, I guarantee it." He gestured around the kitchen. "If you think making this place inhabitable was a job, just wait until you see the house in London. Dangerous, that."

"I'll manage. Just get yourself and Harry home safely, Sirius. That's my wish."

"Oh, shite, Moony. Why'd you go and tell me then? Now it won't come true!" Sirius laughed.

Remus laughed with him for a while, and then he abruptly grew serious once again. With an edge of panic in voice, he asked, "You won't leave until after the full moon, will you?"

Sirius ran his hand through Remus' graying hair. "I'll stay until then, Moony. I promise." Sirius looked down at their empty plates and asked, "Do you want some more cake?" Remus, who could never say no to chocolate, readily agreed. After refilling their plates with enormous hunks of cake, Sirius pushed back his chair and announced, "I have a present for you."

"Oh, Sirius, you shouldn't have done that," Remus said.

Deadpan, Sirius responded, "All right. Do you want me to take it back then?"

Remus' cheeks turned pink, and he answered sheepishly, "No."

Sirius grinned and opened the back door. A moment later, he reappeared with a tawny owl perched on his shoulder. Remus just stared. "I figured an relatively inconspicuous and reliable form of communication might come in handy for this phase of the operation. So what are you going to name him?"

Remus thought for a minute and replied, "How about Orion?" They grinned at each other, and their fingers intertwined. Remus looked down at Sirius' callused hand in his own smooth, clerical one and noticed a smear of chocolate frosting on his finger. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he put Sirius' finger in his mouth and sucked off the frosting.

Sirius' eyes grew wide, and he said, "Oh, Moony, you shouldn't have done that."

"And why ever not?" came the reply.

"Well, I can't let you stop there now, can I?"

Remus laughed. "Then at least one of my wishes will come true, won't it?"

Sirius smiled and kissed him. "Happy birthday, Moony."


	27. Bad Moon Rising by Twix

It was already late into the evening when Remus woke up to find himself on the settee. He opened his eyes slowly. His head was throbbing, and he could hear a slight ringing in his ears. It was times like these when Remus would lose patience with his condition. He hated everything leading up to it as much as the recuperation afterwards. _Can't I just get it the hell over with?_ he thought to himself.

Ever so carefully, Remus leaned up against the cushions and looked around the dark living room. There was a light shining from the kitchen. If he listened closely, he thought he could hear Sirius' voice from down the hallway, although he hadn't the slightest idea who he could be talking to. Buckbeak, perhaps? Closing his eyes slightly from the pain in his head, Remus groped for his cane on the floor where he had dropped it earlier. He took his time standing up before making his way down the hallway.

Remus' head began to spin, and he stopped and took a deep breath. He didn't want to think about it, but this wasn't normal. He was used to the headaches and the ringing in his ears, but he couldn't remember ever feeling like this. Remus couldn't pinpoint exactly what was different, but it made him uneasy and apprehensive.

This month, Sirius was making his potion. It was much less expensive, they'd decided, and Remus had easier access to it. It had been Sirius' idea to begin with, but when he began to realize how difficult the potion was, he started to reconsider. When they had been younger, Sirius had been a solid enough potion maker, but that was a long time ago, and he wasn't sure of himself anymore. Remus had persuaded him to continue. He knew Sirius' potion-making skills were perfectly adequate for the Wolfsbane Potion. And if he were completely honest with himself, he felt some humiliation in someone else's paying to have the expensive potion made, even Sirius.

But Remus couldn't imagine that anything had gone wrong. Making the potion for this past month had really been a team effort for the two of them. Remus had always been worthless at potion making, but he was familiar enough with this specific one, and he enjoyed watching Sirius make it. Everything seemed to have gone smoothly. In fact, Remus convinced himself, these dizzy spells weren't _that_ uncommon. He started to recall quite a few times during school when they had occurred.

With that firmly set in his mind, he continued down the hall and stepped in front of the doorway to the kitchen. Sirius stood over the large cauldron that was currently sitting in the sink. He was poring over the large potions book that held the directions for the potion. With his hair tied back from his face, Sirius was muttering under his breath and repeating the exact ingredients of the potion for probably the twenty-fifth time that day. Remus didn't interrupt him. He didn't want to talk right now, so he remained silent in the doorway. Besides, he liked to watch Sirius work.

Remus couldn't help but feel a little guilty, though, when he saw how much effort and time Sirius was putting into it. This was all because of him. Sirius would just call him a prat whenever he mentioned it, but Remus still felt guilty. The amount of love and care Sirius was putting into this… Remus didn't feel he deserved it all.

"Now I just need his hair…" He heard Sirius mutter, and he stepped forward at the same time Sirius turned around, and the two nearly collided.

"Shit! Merlin, Remus!" Sirius exclaimed, jumping in surprise. "I didn't see you."

"Sorry about that," Remus said, shifting his weight on his cane. He squinted in the harsh light of the kitchen. "How are things?"

Sirius took a deep breath, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. "Very well, Moony," he said confidently, glancing back at the cauldron. "I'm pretty sure everything's in order. I just need a hair."

Remus reached up with his free hand to pull out a hair, but Sirius stepped forward and pushed his hands out of the way. "I've got it, don't worry about it," Sirius said, reaching up and making quite a show of running his fingers through Remus' greying hair before taking a hair. He kissed Remus's temple before turning back around to the cauldron. Sirius then ladled the last of the potion into a goblet. He carefully pulled the last wolf hair out of a small bag, twisted it with Remus's hair, and then added it to the potion. Remus and Sirius both watched as it began to hiss and smoke. Remus gave an involuntary shudder, and Sirius squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

Picking up the goblet, Sirius offered it to Remus. "Cheers, love."

Remus just sighed and downed the last of the potion. His head began to spin again and he reached out for the counter to steady himself. Sirius grabbed goblet from him and put his arms around him.

"You alright?" Sirius asked, not even trying to hide his concern.

Remus rested against Sirius' body and nodded. He was silent for a moment with his head resting on Sirius' shoulder. "God, Sirius," he murmured after some time, "I'm so bloody tired of all this."

Sirius didn't know what to say to this, so he just held him a little closer and whispered, "I know. I'm sorry."

Remus stepped back and sighed. "Don't be, Padfoot. I'll be fine." He then turned, and walked across the kitchen into the front bedroom. Sirius was close behind him, casting a nervous, anxious look.

"Sirius, I'm _fine!_" Remus said somewhat irritably. But then, another dizzy spell came over him, and his whole body began to tremble. He gasped, and Sirius held onto his arm.

"Something's wrong, isn't it, Moony," Sirius said, his voice panicky and worried.

Remus couldn't disguise it anymore. He nodded, and then let out a cry as a sharp pain traveled up his spine. Remus fell onto Sirius and gripped his arms so tightly he winced. His whole body was trembling and shaking, and his eyes were starting to roll wildly in his head. "S-Sirius, you have to – you have to _go_."

"No, Remus, I can't! I'll be here, Remus –"

"_Go!_" Remus growled, pushing Sirius away roughly, "You have to get out of here! The potion" His back was starting to bend, and hair was growing on his lengthening head. Sirius could hear the bones in Remus' body breaking and snapping beneath torn and ripping muscles.

"Remus, I won't –"

"_Get out of here!_" Remus shouted, his eyes wild with panic and with the wolf rising up inside of him. But Sirius refused to move. All he could do was stand there, his hands tightly around Remus' arms, as he watched the worst transformation Remus had ever had. As the change took over his body, Remus' clothes were ripped from his shoulders. He reared back with his arms and claws flailing. Remus had almost disappeared into the wolf, and he lunged forward into Sirius, catching him unawares in a flurry of claws and teeth. Sirius staggered backwards into the wall of the corridor. As he hit the floor, he turned into the large, shaggy dog. Before the werewolf could attack again, Padfoot had pushed Moony to the ground with his large paws. The wolf fought back, throwing the dog against the table, knocking it over. Stunned, Sirius returned to human form as he hit the ground, and before he could transform again, Remus attacked.

The pull of the moon must have been strong. That, mixed with the faulty potion, made Moony nearly impossible to manage. With a whimper, Padfoot retreated. The wolf began pacing the floor as if trying to find a way out. Frustrated, he began to attack at his own body. The werewolf howled as his teeth ripped at his own flesh. Then Padfoot rallied and lunged at him, barking and biting. It was enough to draw Moony's attention back to him. The werewolf roared and howled, claws and teeth slashing the air, and Padfoot willingly took the brunt of the attack. Doorframes splintered and furniture overturned as the two canines snarled and bit at each other.

The fight continued on and off into the early morning hours, when Padfoot could no longer control the wolf and slinked off behind the shabby chair by the fireplace to lick his wounds. The werewolf, tired of his prey, tore his way through the back door and bolted into the stand of trees behind the cottage in search of fresh quarry.


	28. Wounds by Mum, Mid March

A little after sunrise the next morning, Remus cowered behind Buckbeak's shed, shivering and desperate. He hadn't seen Sirius since the night before, and he couldn't see anyone moving around in the cottage. He had never felt so wretched and scared in his life. Blood ran into his eyes, and he tried to wipe it away with the back his hand. His hand, however, was so scratched and mangled that all he accomplished was smearing the blood farther into his hair.

What a colossal fuck-up it had been. He shook uncontrollably, and the mud around the shed oozed between his bare feet. He hurt everywhere and resigned himself to many new scars. He looked back towards the house, craning his neck to peer into the windows. No movement. Nothing. He had to do something, but his brain was still muzzy from the transformation, and he couldn't think of what. Merlin, if he was in this bad a shape, what had he done to Sirius?

Eventually, the not knowing became a worse agony, and he pulled himself up and wrenched open the door to the shed. Buckbeak awoke, alarmed, and nodded to Remus sympathetically. The need for all the bowing and formality between the hippogriff and the two men had long since passed. Remus grabbed a rough, dusty blanket from a pile on the floor to cover himself and made his unsteady way back into the house.

He winced as he passed the gaping hole where the door had been, the splintered table and chairs in the kitchen, and the shredded settee cushions on the floor, looking like a slumber party from hell. He threaded his way through the debris in the sitting room to the bedrooms in the back. No Sirius. He retraced his steps back through the house with an unspeakable dread freezing his insides. Dogs did that, he thought. Crawled off somewhere alone to d—

"Sirius!" he shouted, his voice harsh and ripped from his raw throat. There, in the sitting room, he found him, still curled up near the now cold hearth, behind his favorite chair. Remus threw off the blanket and flung himself onto the floor towards Sirius. "Dear God, Sirius," he croaked, "oh, dear God."

Driven by his fear and guilt, Remus was insensible of his own pain and nakedness. Feeling undeserving even to touch him, Remus placed his hand gingerly on Sirius' chest, hoping and praying that he was still alive. Sirius' chest was slick and sticky with blood. Remus slid his hand through the gore and was relieved to feel the steady rising and falling of his breath and his strong heartbeat. But the blood. Dear heaven, there was so much of it. Sirius' blood, Remus' blood, mingled together in some sort of unholy sacrament. The iron tang of it seemed to coat his tongue, and the ammonia stench of urine assaulted his nostrils, gagging him. Sometime in the early morning, unable to move, Padfoot had pissed himself.

Remus recoiled mentally, and the memory of the night before came flooding back. What were the chances that all this blood congealing on Sirius' body was from scratches? Practically nil. Tears ran down Remus' face at the thought that he had condemned the person he loved more than life itself to such a fate, and not for the first time, he hated himself.

He curled up on the floor, pressing his body to Sirius', slipping a scratched and bleeding hand behind his neck, cradling his head in his arms, willing him to be all right. Remus' tears mingled with the feverish sweat soaking Sirius' hair, and he could taste the salt as he kissed him again and again. Sirius stirred.

"Moony," he choked out weakly, "I'm so sorry."

"Dear heavens, what have you got to be sorry about? I've done worse than kill you," Remus sobbed. Remus' face was a mess of tears and snot as he buried his face in Sirius hair.

"I really fucked it up, didn't I, Moony?"

"Hush, it was my fault. I'll never be able to forgive myself," Remus countered.

"Not your fault," Sirius whispered, "None of it's your fault, Remus."

"I shouldn't have forced to you make the potion. You said you didn't want—"

"I should've insisted." In spite of his pain, Sirius smiled. "Listen to us, would you?"

"Oh, Padfoot. What the bloody hell are we going to do now?" Remus held him close to stop them both from trembling.

"Find our wands, patch ourselves up, and get on with things, Moony. Just like we always do."

Remus closed his eyes. Sirius didn't understand, and he hated saying it out loud. "I mean about you, love. We've got a hell of a mess on our hands here."

"What are you on about, Remus?"

Remus held Sirius so tightly he winced from the pain, but he couldn't let go of him. Finally, he spoke the dreaded words, "I bit you, Sirius. There's no way I couldn't have. You know what that means."

Sirius' eyes grew wide, and he looked up at Remus. The utter desolation he saw there brought fresh tears to his eyes.

"We need to get you patched up and away from here, Padfoot. Dumbledore will know what to do. I'll go . . . I don't know . . . somewhere. I'm just not safe. I'm a menace. First Hogwarts, and now this."

Sirius grabbed Remus by the hair and pulled his face down to meet his. "Shut up, Moony. Don't talk like that."

"You don't know what you're saying, do you? Sirius, I just—"

"Didn't bite me," Sirius finished.

Remus shook his head. "Sirius, just look at yourself. These are bites. I'm so sorry, Sirius, but they're bites."

"Padfoot, Remus. You bit Padfoot. You didn't bite me."

Remus rocked back and forth with Sirius in his arms. Still disbeliving after a moment, he asked, "You're sure?"

"Not even a nibble. I swear it. Merlin, is that what you were thinking?" Sirius buried his face in Remus' neck. "Poor Moony."

Remus shuddered violently from the trauma and the cold. "Still," he said, "it's not worth the risk. I'm not safe to be around. Maybe people have been right all along."

"Stop it. Just stop it," Sirius interjected. He put his hands on either side of Remus' face and looked into his golden eyes. "Merlin, would you look at us, love? We're a right mess. But we have to stick together. Strange as it seems right now, it's safer that way for both of us. And even if it weren't, I will not lose you again." He smiled before continuing. "Besides, who else would have us?"

Sirius was satisfied to see Remus' mouth twitch at the corners. "Promise me, Moony. Swear to me that you'll go straight to London when I head north."

Remus fell silent. Sirius pressed home the advantage he had in Remus' guilt. "Swear to me, Remus."

"I swear it, Sirius," he whispered.

Sirius nodded his head, satisfied. Then, he pulled Remus closer to him, and amidst the tears, the sweat, the piss, the snot, and the blood, they bound themselves even closer to each other with a kiss.


	29. Owl 19, Hogsmeade, S to R

My dearest, darling Remus, 

Please say you aren't still angry with me. The fever is gone now, and I really am fine. I tire easily, but am otherwise perfectly healthy. I know it hurt you that I wouldn't take the new robes you got me for Christmas, but you surely realize that if I'm caught, Madame M. will be able to tell them who purchased the robes. I see no sense in taking you down with me. I hope you are making a good recovery in London. I trust you also realize how important it is for me to be near Harry right now. Please remember how very much I love you.

I owled Dumbledore as soon as I got to Hogsmeade, and he recommended a nearby cave for Buckbeak and me to hide in. Turned out it was that same cave up the mountain past Dervish and Banges where you, James, Peter, and I used to smoke gillyweed on Hogsmeade weekends. Remember? I even found some shards of red glass in the back of the cave that must be the sad remnants of James' old water pipe that Peter tripped over and broke our sixth year. It was that time you wound up with bong water all over your trousers. Anyway, I sit here in the cave in the evenings, thinking a lot about you. Mostly about that silly shit-eating grin you get on your face when you're almost too stoned to speak. Merlin's beard, the amount of chocolate you could eat when you were high was phenomenal, even for you! I'd love to get you that high right now and have my way with you. You were so deliciously pliable at moments like that.

Enough reminiscing, I guess. I got an owl from Harry, and he had some interesting news. He was out of his dormitory after hours—idiot!—investigating something to do with the second task and was almost caught by Snape. Moody came along in just the nick of time. Turns out Harry had the map with him, and he loaned to Mad-Eye. I'd love to get my hands on that map again, but it's probably a good plan for the old boy to have it. According to Harry, Mad-Eye suspects Snape, so that's good enough for me. Besides, that arsehole Crouch must suspect him, too, because Harry said the map showed Crouch sneaking around in Snape's office. I don't know what to make of that, but it couldn't be happening to a better person this time. If Snivellus so much as lays a greasy finger on that boy's head, I swear I'll kill him this time.

The next Hogsmeade weekend is coming up soon, so I'll be able to see Harry and make sure he's really all right. I imagine he'll be able to sneak some food out of the castle for me. You've spoiled me on the rat situation the past few months, but I'm still on the lookout for ones with missing toes. No luck yet on that.

Remus, please don't fret. This is something I have to do. I promised James and Lily I'd look after the boy if anything happened to them, and for the past thirteen years, I've made a total cock-up of it. I'll be with you as soon as we figure out what's going on here, maybe even bringing Harry with me. Keep the home fires burning, love.

Sirius

P.S. Take the enclosed parchment to Gringotts for me. As we've discussed, I'm turning over guardianship of Harry to you in the event anything happens to me.

P.P.S. Don't forget to have your potion made. The only one in the house is Kreacher, and it would be a right shame if you accidentally killed him, wouldn't it?

P.P.P.S. That wasn't funny, was it? Sorry.


	30. Owl 20, London, R to S, Early April

Dear Padfoot,

Of course I'm not angrywith you. Please don't worry about that, Sirius. Things are going fairly well here in London. No matter how many times you tell me not to worry, you know I will think of you constantly up there in Scotland. I'm glad you're well and hidden. Please take care and watch after yourself.

I've been making a very quick recovery, so there's no need to worry about me now. I've been cleaning the house as best I can, but there is still so much work to be done. Kreacher knows he is to listen to me, but he's very reluctant to follow orders from me. He spends most of his time talking with your mother's portrait (Who, you can imagine, is very pleased to see me managing her house) or in his "room" by the boiler. I know he is bound to the house, but I have a very hard time trusting him as well. He really does seem to be unhinged from the years of taking orders from your mother's portrait, so I hope he doesn't present any problems in the future.

Something about your story with Barty Crouch doesn't add up, Sirius. I can't really put my finger on what it is, but I would definitely look into that. Perhaps you could ask Ron to talk to Percy about Crouch. Why would aMinistry official come all the way to Hogwarts tosnoop aroundinSnape'soffice - especially one who is supposed to be so sick?

I look forward to seeing you soon, Padfoot. Hopefully, you and Dumbledore will figure out who's trying to harm Harry, and you'll be able to come to London sooner than we had hoped. Until then, I will continue getting the house in order for you and Harry. And tomorrow, I will be going to Gringotts to put your power of attorney letter in the vault, but I trust that you will never do anything so terribly reckless that I'll ever need to use it. My main concern now is that it will raise too much suspicion with the goblins.

Please take care, love. I'm thinking of you all the time, so stay safe until you can get back here.

Love,  
Remus

P.S. I hope you enjoy the lemon curd and digestive biscuits I sent along. I thought they might help the rats go down a little easier.


	31. Owl 21, S to R, Mid April

Dear Remus,

Harry was not at all happy to see me, the little worry-wart. Still, I've got loads of information for you. I got Harry to tell me all that happened at the World Cup, and I think someone nicked his wand up in the Top Box. It had to be a wizard who conjured that Dark Mark, and the kids say Lucius Malfoy was right behind him. That's one possibility, and there's also Ludo Bagman. Harry says he keeps trying to help him with the tournament, which is suspicious to say the least.

I filled the kids in on the whole sordid tale of the rise and fall of Barty Crouch, Sr. If we're right, and Voldemort is staging a comeback, they ought to know what things were like back then. I asked more about Crouch's snooping in Snape's office, but they don't know anymore than they did to begin with. Why would he sneak around in Snape's office, but claim to be too sick to show up for the Tournament? I wouldn't put anything past him, but it sure doesn't make sense. Tell you what, if I hadn't seen Junior buried with my very own eyes, I'd almost wonder . . . but nah, that's ridiculous, isn't it? At any rate, Ron's going to owl his brother and try to find out what's up.

I reminded Harry to be careful and to stick close to Hogwarts, but he just bitched at me, idiot boy. Can't he see it's for his own good to "follow orders?" These two tasks have made him think he's invincible! Anyway, I've given the kids a new name to call me since Snape knows my old school name. I guess from now on, you can just call me . . .

Snuffles


	32. Owl 22, R to S

Remus Lupin walked quickly down Diagon Alley, paying little attention to the familiar shops full of after-work shoppers. He looked up ahead, saw The Leaky Cauldron, and crossed the street in that direction. Suddenly, in an explosion of papers and groceries, Remus stumbled backwards and found himself face to face with Percy Weasley.

"Professor Lupin!" Percy gasped, struggling to hold the remaining papers slipping from his arms.

"Percy! Hello!" Remus replied. He bent down to retrieve the papers and keep his apples from rolling down the street. "Here, let me help you with this. I'm so sorry – I really should have been watching where I was going."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Professor. I wasn't watching either." Percy took the remaining papers from Remus and slipped them back in his bag, then bent down and gathered up the groceries that spilled from the bag that Remus had been holding.

Remus leaned back down to help Percy. "So, Percy, it's been a long time since I've seen you. How are you getting along?"

"Quite well, thank you," Percy said, "Work at the Ministry has certainly kept me busy. I've enjoyed working with – Oh!"

Remus looked down quickly. A small bag had spilled over, and several brilliant emeralds had fallen out onto the ground. They glittered and looked exceptionally bright against the dirty street. Remus quickly scooped them back in the bag and straightened up, everything now in the grocery bag.

Clearing his throat, Remus said pleasantly, "So I hear you've made quite a name for yourself, Percy. Personal assistant to Mr. Crouch!"

Percy, who had been staring at Remus's bag a little more openly than he might have realized, shook his head slightly, then replied, "Oh, thank you, Professor!"

"Please, call me Remus," Remus said, smiling. "I hear things are going well with the Tournament?"

Percy let out a deep sigh before replying. On closer inspection, Remus could see that the impressionable young man was almost to the breaking point. Percy looked stressed and distracted, but replied in a forced, cheery manner. "Oh, yes, things are going very well! We've just finished the second task, which was very successful. There was no doubt an article in _The Daily Prophet._ I enjoy very much being able to attend the tasks. However, it's a great inconvenience that my boss, Mr. Crouch has been unable to attend."

"Yes, I read about that in the paper. Most unfortunate," Remus replied, "I do hope he's feeling better?"

"Well, he is still too sick to come into the office. He sends frequent owls with instructions to me. This has been a very busy year for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, understandably, what with the Quidditch World Cup and now the Tri-Wizard Tournament…"

As Percy continued, Remus began to open his senses around him and feel for Percy's thoughts and emotions. He could tell right away that this boy was being stretched to his limit. But now, as he felt through Percy's many levels of emotions, he sensed fear… and anticipation… the need to prove himself… ambition…

"… however, I feel that Mr. Crouch will make a fast recovery and be back in the office in no time."

Remus smiled. "That's good to hear. So, have you actually seen him recently?" He hoped he didn't sound too suspicious. Percy replied that he hadn't. Remus felt out again… and knew that Percy was telling the truth. He didn't know more than he was letting on…

Remus brought his senses back to himself and looked at Percy. "Well, it's a good thing Mr. Crouch has such a capable assistant to run things at the office, isn't it?" He gave Percy a warm smile, and Percy fairly grinned back.

Percy's chest swelled, and he replied pompously, "I think it has been a great relief to Mr. Crouch to know that his department has been left in good hands. And I've just loved my time spent there; it's quite an amazing experience."

"Well, Percy, I wish you the best of luck in the future," Remus said with a smile, reaching out his hand. "You have a good evening."

Percy shook his hand. "Thank you. And you, too, Professor!"

"Remus," Remus reminded him.

Percy nodded gravely and said, "Remus." He then turned around and continued his way down the street.

Later that evening, Remus wrote:

_Dear Snuffles,_

_Don't worry about Harry. I'm sure what you're saying is getting through to him. You can surely remember, and I imagine this is what Harry has in mind as well, how reckless and adventurous you were at the age of fourteen. Granted, you didn't have an Evil Dark Lord after you, but Harry would still feel resentful of having his convicted murderer godfather telling him to be a "good boy." He's very aware of what is going on within and without Hogwarts, which is more than you can say for most students._

_In other news, I saw Percy Weasley today in Diagon Alley. He is so overwhelmed about his job at the Ministry and is absolutely exhausted. I also sensed that he knows nothing more than we do on Barty Crouch's condition – well, let me rephrase that. He knows nothing more than the general population does on Crouch's condition. Percy, of course, doesn't know that his boss has been sneaking up to Hogwarts in the middle of the night. Crouch just sends Percy instructions from home (or from wherever he is) by owl._

_I can't help but wonder if his disappearance has anything to do with the stirring of the Death Eaters. But how can it? Unless Crouch is just using the crisis at the World Cup to feather his cap with one more capture._

_And on the subject of Death Eaters, you might want to tell the children about the Death Eaters' Dark Mark tattooed on their left forearm. I know Death Eaters don't go parading that around, especially in front of students, but they should at least be aware of it._

_In my dealings in Knockturn Alley, I've heard some rumors that Ludo Bagman has quite a reputation of being a gambler. You don't suspect that he's offering to help Harry because he's got some money wagered, do you? I can't imagine Bagman would have anything to do with the Dark Arts._

_Take care, Snuffles, and I hope to hear from you soon._

_Love,  
Remus_


	33. Owl 23, S to R, Before the Third Task

Moony,

Ha! Been up to your old parlor tricks with that Weasley boy, haven't you, you old mind reader. I know only too well how impossible it is to keep a secret from you if you want to know it. You say it's just that I wear both my heart and my brain on my sleeve, but we both know it's more than that. If you were a character in a story, you'd be the one always described as looking at someone "as if he was reading his mind." That's the only reason we got away with so much when we were in school—your innocent look and your battened down brain! Merlin, listen to me prattle on about how wonderful you are. Must miss you or something.

Well, I trust that if there was anything in that boy's brain, you'd have got to it, alright. Never mind, though, because I can you fill you in on the big news about Crouch because you sure as hell won't read it in the paper. Harry owled me this morning saying that he and that Bulgarian Quidditch player were out on the grounds last night when Crouch showed up, acting barmy as a fruitcake. He was prattling on about things, not seeming to know where he was or what day it was. Then, according to Harry, he'd come over all lucid and panicky, claiming to need to talk to Dumbledore about something important, something about Bertha Jorkins, something about Barty, Jr. that was his fault, but nothing that made sense.

Snivellus, as usual, was an arse about things and delayed Harry's getting to Dumbledore in time with his usual bollocks. By the time they got back, Crouch had whacked that Krum bloke upside the head and knocked him out! No word yet on Crouch. He seems to have disappeared completely. And I had a few pertinent things to say to Harry about what the bloody hell he was playing at going out alone with that Durmstrang bloke after dark in the first place! I told him to stick close to Ron and Hermione, but I think it'll be more like Ron and Hermione sticking close to him. I also made him give me his word he'll stay in the castle, swotting for tonight's task. Who knows if he will, though, the cocky little berk. I've arranged front row tickets for Snuffles, and I'll send Orion with a note to let you know how he does.

I also heard from Dumbledore. He had a talk with Harry about his scar hurting. He thinks there's some connection between Voldemort and Harry--a mind link, I guess—involving that scar, just like you thought. Dumbledore didn't say too much to Harry about it. He also mentioned something that Harry forgot to tell me. When he was at least partially lucid, Crouch kept muttering something about Voldemort getting stronger. Looks as if we've been right all along, Remus. Sod all.

Sirius


	34. Owl 24, S to R

He's disappeared. For God's sake, Remus, get here as fast as you can. I need you.

Sirius


	35. Final: In the Time We Have Remaining

by Mum-to-You

Padfoot ran all the way back to Hogsmeade. As he began the steep climb up the side of mountain that led to the cave he'd been using as a hideout, he slowed down, panting heavily. There was a cut in his front paw from the sharp rocks, and he stopped to lick it. Then he thought, fuck it, and transformed back into a human. At least then he wouldn't have to walk on it.

He continued his climb while sucking on his injured finger, tattered robes catching on brambles and branches. When he got there, though, he heard someone talking, a low voice, cajoling and musical. Wary now, he inched his way towards the mouth of the cave and listened. Then he smiled. He stuck his head into the low opening and watched as his visitor tossed a ferret into the air for the hippogriff to catch. As Sirius entered the cave, the loose gravel on the floor scuffed under his shoes. The tall, lanky man turned at the sound, and with a concerned look on his face, but a calm, sure voice said, "Did you find him? Is he back?"

Sirius nodded.

Remus studied Sirius' brooding expression carefully before speaking. "Who's back? Harry? Or Voldemort?"

Sirius blinked furiously and looked away. "Both," he said finally.

After a long silence, Remus whistled through his teeth and said, "Shit." He swallowed thickly and paced the room. Finally he stopped and looked at Sirius. "Harry's okay, I take it."

Sirius shrugged. "Best as could be expected." Then he began to shiver uncontrollably.

Remus held Sirius close and pulled him down to the floor of the cave. They sat together, Remus leaning against the wall and Sirius leaning against Remus. Sirius told him everything that Harry had said. To Remus' credit, he sat silently, staring up at the roof of the cave, waiting for Sirius to finish. Sirius told him everything—how Barty Crouch had rigged the tournament, about Wormtail's newest treachery, what dark magic Voldemort had employed.

Throughout the story, Remus flinched only once, when Sirius told him what Lily had said to Harry. Then, a spasm of pain crossed Remus' face. Afraid of what that look meant, Sirius shied away from it and moved to the subject of Dumbledore's plan.

"—so I'm to go round up the old crowd. Figgy, Dung—" he paused and chuckled softly. "You."

Remus laughed. "Right. How very efficient you are, Padfoot."

"I've also got a cousin I might look in on. Andy's girl. Very odd name. I think she's old enough now, and she was always a good sort for a kid."

"The cute one with the pink hair?" Remus asked. "Good heavens, she's just a baby."

"Time flies, Moony. She was in school just behind that oldest Weasley boy. Bill, is it?"

"Still. She's hardly old enough to be much good for anything."

"If she's anything like Andy, she's a damn fine witch, and she's about the same age we were in the first go-round, you git—oh—" Sirius snapped his fingers with satisfaction. "Nymphadora! That's her name. I knew I'd remember it."

Remus snorted. "Nymphadora? Who in their right mind would name a child Nymphadora?"

"I said she was Andromeda's daughter. No one would mistake Andy for being in her right mind. But I promise you, when you meet her, I bet you'll like her."

Buckbeak squawked, then ruffled his feathers and looked over at them, eyes filled with concern. Remus reached over and tossed him another ferret, which he caught in midair and devoured. All the while, he looked at the two men with mournful eyes.

Remus sighed, and the sound stirred Sirius.

"Moony?" he asked," Do you really trust Snape?"

Without hesitation, Remus nodded. "I don't know what hold Albus has over him, but it's a damn strong one. No telling what Dumbledore has in store for him. I'd guess some sort of double agent business. It'll look dodgy, no doubt, but we'll have to trust him, whatever he does."

Sirius grimaced, "Dumbledore seems to trust him, but I don't like it. He'd as soon kill us all where we stand."

Remus shook his head. "Not Dumbledore he wouldn't. I have a feeling that Severus would do anything Dumbledore told him to do, whether he wanted to or not."

Sirius sat abruptly. "He didn't say what he wanted us to do, but this time, we do it together, right?"

It was a long time before Remus answered. He stood up and paced the floor in front of Buckbeak. His face was so taut Sirius thought he might shatter at the slightest touch. He finally looked over at Sirius and shook his head. "I have a good idea where Albus will send me, Sirius, and, no, you can't go with me."

They looked at each other for moment, and Remus continued. "He's going to send me to Greyback, Padfoot. You know he has no other choice."

"No!" Sirius shouted, leaping to his feet. "No, Remus, I won't let you do that."

Remus smiled at him. "In the first place, Sirius, I will make my own decisions, thank you. In the second place—" Remus looked wistfully at him, 'In the second place, there is no one else he can send to the werewolves. I imagine now another decade and a half has passed, I can convince Greyback that I've had it with wizard-kind and their hatred of me."

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his shabby robes. "It's not as if it's really much of an act, you know." His voice was bitter.

Sirius' voice became desperate. "Remus, please, no. Don't do this," he whispered.

Remus looked over at him and smiled a trifle too broadly. "Let's just wait and see what Dumbledore has planned, shall we?"Sirius looked stubborn and argumentative, but Remus stared at him intently as if trying to send calm, soothing thoughts into his mind.

"Stop it," growled Sirius, looking away. "I hate it when you do that."

Remus reached out with one hand, and Sirius took it. "Sorry. It's not exactly cricket, is it?"

"Cricket? What's that?" Sirius asked.

Remus laughed. "Never mind, Padfoot. Cricket's rather complicated, and you don't have time for an explanation."

Together, they gathered up Sirius' meager belongings and prepared him for his next journey. They decided that Sirius should fly the hippogriff back to London and Remus would meet him there after speaking to Dumbledore. Sirius thought it would be funny if Buckbeak got to stay his in mother's room. They laughed, but it gave Remus an idea.

"Say, Padfoot," he said nonchalantly, "Grimmauld Place would make a corking headquarters for the new Order, wouldn't it?"

Sirius' eyes widened. "That's brilliant, Moony! I can unload the bloody house on Dumbledore, go off on missions for him, and never have to see the buggering place again!"

Remus smiled. He kissed Sirius good-bye and waved as he took off on Buckbeak. When they were no longer in sight, the smile slid from his face. What replaced it was an unreadable mask. He was a better Legilimens than Sirius knew. He knew that there wasn't much Sirius could do for the Order while he was still a wanted man. If Sirius offered the house to Dumbledore, it would be the perfect place to keep him safe. Remus would insist that Dumbledore make Sirius stay at the house and keep the headquarters open. With enough people in and out of the place, maybe Sirius wouldn't have time to get restless or bored. Someone would have to run the place, and Sirius might do something reckless otherwise. He would arrange to come back and stay with Sirius whenever possible. It was up to Remus to keep Sirius safe from himself.

He couldn't bear for anything to happen to Sirius. He had just gotten something back of the life that had been taken from him, and besides, Harry needed him. Remus knew that going back to Greyback was an almost certain death for him. Not right away, but eventually. Remus nodded to himself over his plans, pulled his cloak up over his face, and walked out of their old cave and into what he could salvage of the time they had remaining.


End file.
